NANNA 

A  STORY  OF  DANISH   LOVE 


TALES    FROM    FOREIGN     LANDS. 


16MO.      GILT     TOPS. 

UNIFORM  IN    STYLE  AND   PRICE. 


I. 
Memories:    A   Story  of  German   Love.    Translated 

from  the  German  ot  Max  Muller,  by  George  P.  Upton. 
II. 

Grazlella:  A  Story  of  Italian  Love.   Translated  from 

the  French  of  A.  de  Lamartine,  by  Jambs  B.  Runnion. 
III. 

Marie:  A  Story  of  Russian  Love.  From  the  Russian 
of  Alexander  Pushkin,  by  Marie  H.  de  Zielinska. 

IV. 
Madeleine:    A   Story  of  Frencli  Love.    Translated 

from  the  French  of  Jlles  Sandeau,  by  Francis  Charlot. 
V. 

Marianela:   A  Story  of  Spanish  Love.    Translated 

from   the   Spanish  of  B.   Perez   Galdos,  by  Helen  W. 
Lester. 

VI. 

Cousin  PhilUs:    A   Story   of  English  Love.     By 

Elizabeth  C.  Gaskell. 

VII. 
Karine:  A  Story  of  Swedish  Love.    Translated  from 

the  German  of  Wilhelm  Jensen,  by  Emma  A.  Endlich. 
VIII. 

Maria  Felicia:  A  Story  of  Bohemian  Love.  Trans- 
lated  from  the  Bohemian  of  Caroline  Svetla,  by 
Antonib  Krejsa. 

IX. 

Nanna:  A  Story  of  Danish  Love.    From  the  Danish  of 

HoLGER  Drachmann;  re- written  in  English   by   Francis 
F.  Browne. 


NANNA 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOVE 

(^Poul  og  V'lrginie  under  nordl'ig  Bredde) 

FROM   THE    DANISH   OF 

HOLGER   DRACHMANN 

RE-WRIITEN  IN  ENGLISH    BY    FRANCIS   F.   BROWNE 


CHICAGO 

A.  C.  McCLURG  &  CO. 
1901 


>     >  »  •    >  «  « 


•  •,*•;    *•   .  *  •  • 


COPYRIGHT 

A.  C.  McCLURG  &  CO, 

igoi 


• 


INTRODUCTORY    NOTE 

Some  years  ago  my  excellent  Danish  friend,  the 
lamented  Thorkild  A.  Schovelin,  spoke  to  me  in 
admiration  of  the  works  of  his  countryman  Holger 
Drachmann,  and  suggested  the  project  of  making 
an  English  translation  of  one  of  the  most  favored 
and  characteristic  of  these,  Pou/  og  Virginie  under 
nordlig  Bredde  ("Paul  and  Viginia  of  a  Northern 
Zone");  and  at  his  request  I  aided  in  the  not  easy 
task  of  giving  to  this  charming  Northern  idyll  an 
adequate  English  setting.  In  revising  the  work 
for  publication  under  a  new  title,  taken  from  its 

I  heroine  in  accordance  with  the  usage  of  the 
popular  series  of  love-tales  of  which  it  now  forms 
a  part,  I  am  conscious  of  shortcomings  which,  had 
my  friend  lived,  he  might  have  done  much  to  aid  in 
remedying.  Yet  I  trust  enough  of  the  beauty  and 
distinctiveness  of  the  original  has  been  transferred 
to  these  pages,  not  only  to  afford  a  rare  pleasure  to 
the  English  reader,  but  to  justify  in  his  view  the 
author's  naming  of  his  little  tale  after  the  French 
classic  which,  in  spite  of  an  unlikeness  in  style  and 

^  treatment  answering  to  that  of  the  races  from  which 
the  works  are  sprung,   it  still  in  a   way  suggests. 

Francis  F.  Browne. 
Chicago,  September,  igoi. 


^ 


NANNA 

A  STORY  OF  DANISH   LOVE 


1. 

There  lay  the  strand,  washed  by  the  waves 
of  the  broad  bay.  The  forest  had  retreated, 
giving  a  free  playground  to  the  sand.  Follow- 
ing the  rim  of  the  bay,  the  beach  lay  in  a  vast 
horse-shoe  curve  between  the  trees  and  the  salt 
water.  Sometimes,  though  very  rarely,  the 
water  yielded  to  some  pressure  of  wind  or  tide 
from  the  open  sea  and  dashed  up  to  the  forest. 
When  the  pressure  ceased,  the  water  retreated 
from  the  forest  more  quietly  than  it  came. 
Very  old  people  of  the  region  could  tell  of  this; 
but  the  younger  ones  listened  to  the  tale  with 
a  smile,  for  within  their  memory  the  water  had 
never  been  so  far  up  as  the  forest.  It  seemed 
as  incredible  as  that  the  forest  could  go  down 


NANNA 


to  the  water ;  and  this,  surely,  could  never 
happen. 

But  whence  had  come  all  this  sand  which 
formed  the  barren  region  between  the  fresh 
green  water  and  the  fresh  green  trees  ?  It 
might  have  been  blown  there,  could  be  an- 
swered. But  whence  could  it  have  been  blown  ? 
Sand  does  not  blow  straight  up  from  the  sea, 
and  still  less  does  it  blow  out  from  the  trees, 
from  the  forest,  where  the  soil  is  firm,  clothed 
at  the  edge  with  brass-yellow  lichens  ;  farther 
in,  covered  with  soft  carpets  of  moss;  and 
farther  still,  where  the  little  swamps  and  swales 
appear,  decked  with  fine  waving  grass.  From 
here  the  sand  could  not  possibly  have  come ; 
it  must,  then,  have  been  washed  up  by  the 
waves. 

And  these  waves  must  have  been  very  strong. 
In  chasms  below  the  forest,  the  yellow  clay 
was  washed  away  from  the  dark  tree-roots, 
leaving  them,  in  appearance,  not  unlike  great 
bunches  of  serpents.  Even  the  broad  sandy 
plain  nearest  the  water's  edge  was  furrowed  by 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOVE 


deep  regular  wrinkles,  like  the  forehead  of  a 
bald  man.  Nothing  grew  here — unless  it  were 
the  stones.  Of  these,  some  were  large,  of  a 
bluish  gray  or  reddish  color  ;  they  could  be  seen 
at  a  great  distance.  Whenever  the  weather 
was  damp,  as  it  was  the  greater  part  of  the  year, 
these  stones  appeared  to  be  weeping.  As  they 
lay  there  they  looked  like  immense  eyes  cov- 
ered by  a  misty  film.  Besides  these  large 
stones,  there  were  millions  of  smaller  ones, 
which  glittered  sharply,  like  small  points,  when 
the  spring  or  summer  sun  glared  down  upon 
them ;  and  then  it  seemed  as  though  they 
turned  themselves  about  constantly  to  avoid 
the  heat.  Sometimes,  when  the  wind  whistled 
over  the  plain,  it  began  to  frolic  as  if  it  were 
a  boisterous  child.  It  raised  up  small  heaps 
of  sand  from  pits  and  holes,  shaped  them  with 
pointed  tops  bent  forward,  and  thus  let  them 
stand,  smoking  lightly  like  a  rocket,  until  it 
took  a  freak  to  move  them.  Yet  sometimes 
these  heaps  remained  ;  and  then  there  came, 
from  one  place  or  another,  no  one  could  tell 


NANNA 


where,  a  few  yellow  rattling  straws,  which  by 
and  by  gathered  companions  and  succeeded  in 
keeping  the  heap  together,  while  they  them- 
selves kept  circling  about  in  the  sand,  as  one 
draws  circles  wi*^h  a  pair  of  compasses,  to  and 
fro,  to  and  fro,  without  ceasing. 

When  the  summer  was  dry,  it  was  burning 
hot  on  the  sand.  But  the  cloudless  sky  and 
the  fiery  heat  seldom  lasted  long,  and  usually 
there  was  a  fresh  breeze  here  the  whole  year 
round  —  perhaps  almost  too  fresh  for  delicate 
people.  The  storms  of  autumn  and  winter 
had  here  an  unobstructed  playground  from 
October  to  May,  sometimes  even  to  June. 
But  all  the  more  precious  were  the  two  sum- 
mer months  —  if  people  were  not  cheated  out 
of  these  also  by  the  rain.  When  this  happened, 
they  fixed  their  hopes  upon  September  —  a 
month  which,  as  a  rule,  was  clear  and  glitter- 
ing, with  warm  middays  and  cool  starry  nights. 
In  October,  the  storms  of  spring  returned, 
alternating  with  fogs  which  lasted,  interrupted 
by  rain-storms,  till  toward  Christmas.     Then 


A  STORT  OF  DANISH  LOVE 


came  the  winter  storms,  with  snow,  and  with 
ice  wedging  itself  in  along  the  bay.  And  now 
coast  and  sea  seemed  one.  A  great  white 
waste  appeared,  with  a  heavy  gray  sky  above  ; 
the  forest  was  like  a  hedge  of  bushes,  from 
which  crows  flew  up,  and  where  now  and  then 
the  report  of  a  gun  was  heard. 

In  mid-winter  the  heavy  sky  was  lifted, 
when  the  frost  filled  the  air.  Then  came  clear, 
bright  days,  in  which  one  could  see  far  over 
the  white  waste,  far  beyond  the  limits  of  the 
bay,  out  to  the  cold  dark-blue  sea.  Then  came 
still  brighter  nights,  with  glittering  stars,  the 
skyey  arch  lifted  high  over  the  coast ;  bright 
flooding  moonlight  casting  long  shadows  over 
the  sand  ;  the  storm  and  the  sea  brought  to 
silence.  Then  the  wild  goose  shrieked  ;  then 
the  storms  returned  ;  then  it  seemed  as  though 
everything  would  dissolve  into  sleet,  rain,  wind, 
and  fog, —  a  sad  and  gloomy  chaos,  through 
which  the  spring  at  last  forced  its  way. 

The  snow  melted,  the  ice  drifted  away.  The 
shore  regained  its  former  limits ;  the  sun  be- 


I o  NANNA 


gan  to  shine ;  the  big  stones  wept,  the  small 
ones  glistened  and  seemed  again  to  turn  them- 
selves about.  Green  tints  appeared  along  the 
forest  rim  ;  the  trees  became  brown-red  and 
sappy,  and  on  the  wet  sandy  road,  with  its  deep 
ruts,  people  ventured  on  foot  or  in  wagons  from 
the  forest  down  to  the  shore,  to  the  village  sit- 
uated there. 

For  there  was  a  village  here  —  here  upon 
the  sand  ;  otherwise  we  should  probably  have 
nothing  more  to  tell  —  no  more  than  of  any 
barren  strand  of  our  northern  zone. 

Surroundings,  it  is  said,  make  the  man  ;  and 
there  is  truth  in  the  saying.  But  if  this  is  the 
case,  it  must  be  hard  to  say  how  these  people 
turned  out  who  had  settled  down  here.  What 
might  not  be  the  results  of  living  upon  a  coast, 
forest  behind  and  sea  before,  and  exposed  always 
to  the  humors  of  the  changing  weather  ?  The 
chances  would  seem  to  be  that  one  would  get 
as  many  minds  during  the  week  and  the  month 
as  there  are  different  winds.  But  the  minds 
of  these  people  were  anything  but  changeable. 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOVE  II 

They  let  the  rain  wet  them  through,  the  storm 
break  out,  and  the  heaven  grow  clear  again, 
without  deviating  in  the  least  from  their  daily 
work  and  daily  habits.  They  seemed  to  have 
gotten  their  characteristics  chiefly  from  the 
sand.  Like  it,  they  easily  swept  away  the  traces 
of  passing  events.  Those  small,  smoking,  mov- 
able heaps,  which  appeared  here  and  there, 
were  levelled  in  a  surprisingly  short  time. 
Only  smooth  and  solid  sand-drifts  remained. 
There  the  dwellers  built  their  houses,  sheltered 
by  the  drifts  from  wind  and  sea ;  and  between 
them,  as  limits  and  bounds,  they  planted  their 
potatoes  in  very  small  gardens,  all  of  them 
alike. 

The  inhabitants  who  had  reached  a  mature 
age  had  really  only  two  kinds  of  temperament, 
according  to  their  outward  conditions  of  life. 
One  half  of  the  village  consisted  of  small,  low 
fishers'  huts,  whose  owners  were  forced,  with 
their  families,  to  toil  hard  upon  sea  and  shore 
for  daily  food.  The  temperament  here  was 
reserved  and  moody,  not  without  a  certain  dash 


I 2  NANNA 


of  independence,  which  in  the  young  was  be- 
coming enough  when  it  was  coupled  with  ac- 
tivity, but  in  the  old  dwindled  into  a  morose 
restiveness  which  was  not  becoming. 

The  other  houses  in  the  village  were  neat 
cottages,  with  green  painted  fences  and  a  flag- 
staff in  the  middle  of  one  of  the  potato-beds. 
They  were  mostly  occupied  by  people  who  had 
toiled  hard,  and  now  took  their  rest :  old  cap- 
tams  who  had  cast  anchor  for  the  balance  of 
their  years,  and  had  saved  enough  to  enable 
them  to  raise  their  potatoes  and  paint  their 
fences,  without  care  for  the  morrow.  Their 
more  fortunate  circumstances  added  to  their 
hardness  a  certain  humorous  kindliness  :  peo- 
ple have  always  a  smile  and  a  little  joke  to 
spare  when  they  are  sure  that  their  bank-book 
is  snugly  stowed  away  in  their  drawer.  Yet 
their  good  humor  rested  upon  a  basis  of  the 
same  temperament  found  in  the  modest  huts. 
No  man  escapes  wholly  from  his  origin  ;  and 
the  prevailing  feature  of  moodiness  and  reserve 
which  this  coast  seemed  to  produce  was  now 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOFE  13 


and  then  betrayed  by  those  more  fortunately 
situated.  Especially  did  it  appear  in  those  cap- 
tains who  had  not  yet  laid  by  either  the  vessel 
or  the  bank-book.  And  from  the  head  of  the 
family  it  was  transferred  to  the  other  members. 
The  barren  strand,  the  short  summers,  the 
severe  winters,  formed  the  characters  of  these 
inhabitants.  Surely,  it  is  the  surroundings 
which  make  the  man. 

The  village  smithy  was  situated  near  the 
outskirts  of  the  town.  It  was  the  last  notice- 
able building  one  saw  when  leaving  the  place, 
the  first  one  met  when  entering  it.  Realizing 
its  conspicuous  position,  the  smith  had  done 
his  best  to  give  his  place  an  imposing  outward 
appearance.  Between  his  residence  and  the 
smithy  was  a  yard,  surrounded  by  a  tar-coated 
tight  board-fence.  Here  the  farmers'  wagons 
could  stand  when  they  needed  repairing,  or 
when  the  horses  wanted  shoeing ;  and  here  the 
fishermen's  boat-fixtures,  waiting  to  be  mended, 
could  lean  ao;ainst  the  fence  •,  sometimes,  in- 


14  NANNA 


deed,  an  entire  boat  could  lie  here,  when  the 
smith's  help  was  needed  for  it.  Here,  close 
to  the  fence,  stood  the  kennel  of  a  large, 
strong,  one-eyed,  stump-tailed  dog,  half  white, 
half  black.  His  name  was  Prussian.  When 
loose,  he  feared  neither  the  waters  of  the  sea 
nor  the  fires  of  the  smithy  ;  and  hence  he  was 
usually  kept  chained.  He  had  suffered  much 
in  his  lifetime,  especially  during  the  year  of  the 
war  between  Denmark  and  Prussia.  The  pa- 
triotic smith,  who  was  fond  of  his  dog,  had 
many  times  during  that  war  wavered  between 
his  love  for  the  beast  and  his  patriotism.  The 
poor  creature  had  been  subjected  to  much 
cruelty  on  account  of  his  name  and  color,  and 
the  smith  had  re-christened  him  as  'Dogman,' 
thinking  thereby  to  divert  some  of  the  patri- 
otic wrath  from  his  guiltless  skin.  But  a  name 
is  not  so  easily  got  rid  of;  and  when,  at  the 
close  of  the  war,  matters  became  very  bad,  and 
the  dog  suffered  more  and  more  from  stones  and 
curses,  the  smith  had  one  day  taken  down  his 
great  beach-gun  from  its  place  over  the  forge 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOVE  I  5 


and  mournfully  prepared  to  offer  up  a  sacrifice 
on  the  altar  of  public  opinion.  The  smith's  son, 
however,  had  begged  so  earnestly  for  his  dumb 
friend  that  the  dog  was  spared,  and  afterwards 
kept  hidden  in  a  corner  of  the  smithy. 

Everything  passes  away  :  a  war,  and  its  re- 
sults as  well.  Prussian  again  dwelt  in  his  ken- 
nel, close  by  the  fence  ;  but  he  had  preserved 
the  memory  of  that  epoch,  and  his  temper, 
originally  good,  had  become  soured.  He  had 
grown  hoarse  with  barking  at  everyone  whom 
he  suspected  of  having  been  among  his  oppres- 
sors ;  even  the  smith  dared  not  rely  entirely 
upon  the  animal's  self-control ;  sometimes  he 
would  look  at  him  with  his  single  eye  (the 
other  had  been  blinded  by  a  stone)  in  a  way 
which  indicated  that  his  original  habit  of  obe- 
dience struggled  with  a  later  consciousness  of 
the  intent  to  shoot  him  merely  for  having  an 
ill-sounding  name  and  a  skin  for  which  he  was 
no  more  responsible.  Surely  we  ought  not  to 
ask  impossibilities  of  a  dog. 

Yet  the  smith  himself  did  not  pay  much  at- 


1 6  NANNA 


tention  to  the  dog.  Since  the  death  of  his 
wife  he  had  grown  more  moody  than  ever, 
somewhat  sad,  and  a  little  irritable.  He  at- 
tended dilisentlv  to  his  work,  instructed  his 
son  and  assistant,  or  gave  him  philosophical 
advice  in  his  own  sententious  wav.  His  father 
and  grandfather  and  all  his  ancestors  had  been 
fishermen,  pilots,  or  captains.  He  had  him- 
self been  a  fisherman  in  his  youth.  Later  he 
had  passed  examination  as  a  mate  ;  but  while 
upon  a  vovage  he  had  got  at  variance  with 
his  captain  so  seriously  that  he  was  obliged 
to  leave  the  vessel — according  to  rumors  and 
conjectures,  barely  escaping  indictment  for 
mutiny.  The  facts,  however,  were  that  the 
captain,  like  manv  old-time  sailors,  had  been 
a  brutal  man,  and  not  always  sober.  One  of 
the  crew  had  been  maltreated,  and  the  mate 
had  interfered,  it  was  said,  in  a  manner  so 
unmistakable  that  the  owner  of  the  vessel,  al- 
though disposed  to  sustain  his  action,  felt  com- 
pelled to  reprimand  him  —  all  the  more  as  the 
captain  was  related  to  the  owner,  and  had  a 


A  STORT  OF  DANISH  LOVE  I  7 

share  in  the  vessel.  The  mate,  who  was  as 
honorable  and  proud-spirited  as  he  was  chiv- 
alric,  and  whose  young  blood  had  not  yet 
learned  to  regulate  its  temperature  by  outward 
circumstances,  bade  an  eternal  adieu  to  the  sea 
and  all  that  belonged  to  it.  He  was  possessed 
of  strong  arms  and  skilful  fingers,  and  seemed 
able  to  get  something  out  of  whatever  he  took 
hold  of.  While  at  the  capital,  an  accident 
brought  him  into  the  company  of  a  comrade 
who  was  a  smith.  He  chose  this  trade  ;  and 
after  remaining  some  years  at  the  capital,  he 
returned  home,  succeeded  in  borrowing  some 
money,  bought  the  old  master  out  of  his  sooty 
cave,  by  and  by  had  the  smithy  built  in  its 
present  shape,  then  married,  and  had  a  son. 

This  son.  Tonnes,  was  to  be  brought  up  to 
his  father's  trade,  and  the  smith  began  to  teach 
the  boy  as  soon  as  the  little  fingers  could  hold 
a  hammer.  The  sea  was  never  mentioned. 
The  boy  should  be  kept  away  from  that. 

But  it  is  no  easy  matter  to  keep  a  boy  from 
the  sea  when  he  lives  in  a  little  town  situated 


I 8  NANNA 


on  an  open  coast ;  particularly  when  family 
propensities  are  in  the  blood.  The  father  had 
sternly  subdued  his  own  seafaring  inclinations. 
It  was  sometimes  touching,  sometimes  even 
painful,  to  observe  the  education  of  the  boy 
and  its  double  aim  :  to  force  him  away  from  an 
inclination  which  had  grown  with  his  growth, 
from  temptations  which  were  always  before 
him  in  the  shape  of  boats,  vessels,  and  play- 
mates, and  to  urge  him  to  tasks  which  were 
entirely  opposed  to  his  nature,  and  which  he 
shared  with  his  silent  father  in  the  dark  sooty 
shop,  where  the  bellows  groaned  and  told  of 
gale  and  storm,  and  where  the  sparks  flew  about 
in  showers  under  the  monotonous  blows  of  the 
hammer,  as  if  they  would  enkindle  that  resist- 
ing force  which  lay  slumbering  in  the  charac- 
ter of  the  boy. 

It  was  touching  and  painful,  too,  to  see  how 
the  father  himself,  in  spite  of  the  years  which 
had  rolled  over  him  during  his  hard  and  weari- 
some work,  constantly  struggled  with  his  old 
inclinations.    Perhaps  he  did  not  notice  it  him- 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOVE  19 

self.  The  people  of  this  coast  (especially  the 
industrious  smith)  had  neither  the  faculty  nor 
the  time  for  pursuing  their  own  little  emotions 
beneath  the  woollen  shirt  and  the  hairy  breast. 
When  the  smith  discovered  his  son  with  a  toy 
which,  in  the  apt  hand  of  the  boy,  began  to 
assume  the  form  of  a  boat,  he  always  snatched 
it  roughly  from  him.  He  never  beat  the  boy, 
and  was  never  unduly  severe  to  him  :  did  not 
he  himself  suffer  from  this  double  nature  which 
his  child  had  inherited  ?  He  was  an  unculti- 
vated man,  as  we  regard  cultivation  ;  but  he 
had  that  better  culture  of  the  heart  which  never 
permits  a  man  to  be  actually  unjust.  But  what 
he  had  resolved  upon  must  be  done  —  just  as 
he  had  carried  out  his  resolution  in  his  own 
case.  He  said  many  angry  words  and  delivered 
short  and  emphatic  admonitions ;  but  perhaps 
he  himself  suffered  most  from  them.  He 
always,  particularly  after  the  death  of  his  wife, 
chose  the  beach  for  his  long  solitary  walks  ; 
and  here  he  would  often  stop  to  observe  from 
a  distance  the  work  upon  the  boats,  or  would 


20  NANNA 


throw  himself  down  upon  a  tuft  of  beach-grass 
on  the  sand  or  near  the  edge  of  the  forest,  and 
with  his  old  telescope  would  follow  the  course 
of  the  ships  over  the  bay  —  seeing  them,  not 
without  visible  emotion,  rounding  the  far-off 
point  under  full  sail,  or,  perhaps  with  still 
greater  emotion,  watching  them  tacking  down 
the  bay,  and,  passing  the  harbor  mouth,  stand 
boldly  out  into  the  open  sea,  .  .  .  whither  ? 
He  lay  there  guessing  ;  —  had  not  he  himself 
crossed  the  deep  ? 

And  when,  early  next  morning,  he  stood  at 
his  forge,  with  his  apron  on  and  the  tongs  in 
his  hand,  he  was  still  more  silent  than  ever. 
One  day  he  had  even  ordered  the  boy  to  leave 
him  alone  in  the  smithy.  It  was  the  day  after 
a  shipwreck,  when  the  smith  had  let  anvils 
and  tongs,  hammers  and  nails  take  care  of 
themselves,  and  had  been  in  the  life-boat  as 
one  of  the  most  active  of  the  rescuers. 

The  best  comforter — and,  so  far,  the  only 
one  —  which  Tonnes  had,  was  the  dog.  As  a 
rule,  he  was  compelled  to  forego  the  company 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOVE  2  1 

of  comrades.  Thus,  only  Prussian  was  left 
him;  and  the  two  were  —  not  inseparable, for, 
as  a  rule,  each  of  them  had  his  chain  to  wear. 
But  at  night,  and  on  Sundays  and  holidays, 
they  were  constantly  together.  At  first  these 
meetings  took  place  in,  or  directly  in  front  of, 
the  dog-house;  but  when  the  boy  had  grown 
older  he  secretly  forged  a  new  ring  for  the 
dog's  chain,  so  that  he  could  open  and  close 
it  at  will,  and  then  they  went  together  far  over 
the  wide  sandy  plain,  sometimes  even — though 
this  was  forbidden  —  into  the  forest. 

The  father  did  not  care  to  notice  these  ex- 
cursions. Perhaps  he  felt  that  the  boy  must 
have  at  least  one  playmate,  and  certainly  this 
four-legged  one  could  not  be  suspected  of 
tempting  him  to  a  boat-ride. 

The  father,  for  his  part,  had  one  friend,  or 
acquaintance,  who  visited  him  in  the  solitary 
smithy.  This  friend  was  a  former  cannoneer, 
of  the  genuine  old  stock.  He  held  a  hum- 
ble position  as  inspector  of  a  signal  station  sit- 
uated at  the  edge  of  the  forest.      It  was  a 

2 


2  2  NANNA 


wooden  shanty,  with  some  signal-charts  on  the 
walls,  and  a  stovepipe  running  out  through  the 
roofo    In  the  grounds  outside  was  a  flag-pole; 
below  the  cross-tree  was  a  gaff,  to  which  bal- 
loon-shaped wicker  baskets  were   hoisted  to 
show  the  force  of  the  wind,  and  from  which 
signals  could  be  exchanged  with  passing  vessels. 
The  man  had  but  one  leg,  and  hopped  about 
like  a  magpie,  with  the  aid  of  a  stick ;  he  was 
so  very  thin  that  there  was  not  enough  flesh 
on  his  bones  for  the  birds  to  pick ;  he  had  a 
sharp  nose  under  a  large-visored  cap^  which  he 
never  took  off;  he  wore  a  woollen  shirt,  which 
was  seldom  covered  by  a  jacket.      His  name 
was  Jacob  Bunke ;   but  he  was  usually  called 
Jacob.      He  had  tact  enough  to  keep  silent 
when  the  smith  was  ill-humored  and  to  speak 
when  the  time  seemed  favorable.    He  used  to 
hobble  down  to  the  smithy  on  Saturday  nights, 
when  it  was  fair  weather  with  light  wind,  and 
there  were  few  or  no  vessels  in  sight.    These 
slight  derelictions  in  his  guard-duty  had  not  yet 
drawn  any  punishment  upon  his  head  ;  yet  he 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOFE  23 

secretly  dreaded  it  every  time  he  thus  deserted 
his  post  for  a  short  time,  and  whenever  he  sat 
with  the  smith  he  constantly  thought  of  the 
possibility  of  finding,  on  his  return  to  the 
shanty,  an  official  letter  with  the  red  seal  of 
the  government.  As  soon  as  a  strange  cloud, 
which  might  indicate  some  change  of  weather, 
appeared  over  the  forest  or  the  sand-plain, 
Jacob  limped  back.  In  his  opinion  the  wel- 
fare of  the  country  depended  upon  his  being 
on  duty  when  the  first  breath  of  a  breeze  blew 
one  way  or  the  other  over  the  bay. 

It  was  Saturday  night,  after  working-hours  ; 
the  weather  was  mild  :  it  was  in  early  spring. 
As  has  been  stated,  the  smithy  was  situated 
near  the  limits  of  the  village,  just  where  the 
brook,  coming  from  the  forest,  met  the  road 
and  passed  through  a  stone  culvert  under  it. 
The  course  of  the  brook,  which  was  indicated 
by  verdure  along  its  sides  and  a  fringe  of  wil- 
lows leaning  over  it,  formed  a  curve  around  the 
yellow  gable-ends  and  the  potato  gardens  of 
the  village,  until  it  lost  itself  in  a  small  glit- 


24  NANNA 


tering  pool,  far  away  in  the  naked  sand-plain. 

The  sun  was  setting  behind  the  promon- 
tory. The  bay  glimmered  like  gold  ;  the  heights 
of  the  promontory  were  violet-tinted.  The 
smith's  boy  opened  the  little  window  in  the 
sooty  wall  looking  toward  the  shore.  His 
father  had  left  the  smithy  and  gone  to  the 
dwelling-house,  on  the  other  side  of  the  yard. 

The  fresh  coolness  from  the  distant  shore 
and  the  damp  earthy  smell  from  the  nearer 
potato-gardens  floated  in  toward  the  boy,  and 
mingled  with  the  rust  and  sooty  dust,  and  the 
fumes  of  the  coals  burning  in  the  forge.  He 
had  worked  very  steadily  that  afternoon,  but 
had  still  a  small  extra  job  to  do  —  making  some 
horse-shoe  nails. 

He  was  a  well-built  boy,  somewhat  slender, 
fifteen  or  sixteen  years  of  age,  with  brown 
arms  bare  below  the  elbow,  and  hard  hands  ; 
a  small  cap  sat  on  his  dusty  hair  ;  he  had  black 
spots  about  the  nose  and  under  his  clear  blue 
eyes,  where  he  had  wiped  off  the  perspiration. 

He  stood  looking  at  the  inviting  world  out- 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOVE  25 


side.  He  was  accustomed  to  have,  inside,  only 
the  black  forge  to  look  at  ;  and  outside,  the 
yard,  with  its  fence,  and  Prussian. 

He  could  finish  his  task  in  half  an  hour, 
and  would  still  have  part  of  that  evening  left 
and  all  the  morrow.    What  should  he  do  then  ? 

He  sighed  lightly  without  really  knowing 
why,  and  turned  quickly  around  at  a  sound 
behind  him. 

He  feared  it  might  be  his  father  coming  to 
surprise  him.  But  it  was  not  the  smith.  It 
was  a  girl  who  stood  at  the  threshold. 

Tonnes'  first  movement  was  to  thrust  his 
hands  under  his  apron  and  wipe  them  upon  its 
leathern  folds.  But  quickly  becoming  con- 
scious that  this  would  not  greatly  improve  their 
appearance,  he  withdrew  them,  pushed  his  cap  to 
its  proper  place  upon  his  head,  and  went  slowly 
to  the  forge,  where,  with  a  pair  of  tongs  in  his 
hand,  he  drew  the  half-burnt  coals  together, 
with  the  other  hand  pulled  the  handle  of  the 
bellows,  and  then  for  the  first  time  turned  his 
eyes  inquiringly  toward  the  girl. 


26  NANNA 


Soon  he  let  go  of  the  handle,  as  the  bellows 
made  too  much  noise,  and  he  wished  to  hear 
what  the  girl  might  have  to  say. 
But  she  said  nothing. 

Then  he  wiped  his  face  under  his  eyes, 
pulled  the  handle  of  the  bellows  again,  so  that 
they  creaked  and  roared,  and  a  sharp  flame 
broke  through  the  coals.  Then  with  his  tongs 
he  took  up  a  slender  piece  of  iron,  held  it  in  the 
fire  till  it  glowed,  let  go  the  handle,  placed  the 
hot  iron  on  the  anvil  and  showered  blows  upon 
it  with  the  hammer,  turning  it  now  upon  one 
side  and  now  upon  the  other,  until  by  and  by 
he  succeeded  in  drawing  it  out  into  a  long  thin 
rod. 

'What  are  you  doing  there?'  asked  the  girl. 

'  Good  evening,  Nanna  ! '  said  the  boy. 

'  I  ask,  what  are  you  doing  ? '  said  the  girl, 
putting  out  her  lip,  while  she  thrust  some  yel- 
low reluctant  curls  back  under  her  hood. 

She  might  have  been  about  fourteen  years 
old;  was  almost  full-grown,  with  a  slender 
form,  bare  arms,  and  somewhat  sullen  features; 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOVE  27 

she  stood  firmly  on  her  feet,  which,  seen  below 
her  short  skirt,  seemed  to  be  turned  slightly 
inward. 

'  I  am  making  horse-shoe  nails.' 

'  What  are  those  ? ' 

'  Nails  for  shoes.' 

'  Shoes  ?  what  shoes  ?  Do  you  mean  boots  ? ' 
and  she  glanced  down  at  her  own,  and  cor- 
rected their  position. 

'  Horse-shoes.  The  nail  is  cut  off  here,  so. 
Do  you  see  this  groove  here  in  the  anvil  ? 
Here  the  nail  is  hammered  ;  a  little  head  is 
formed,  so ;  then  the  piece  is  broken  off  with 
the  tongs,  and  the  nail  is  finished.  Wait  a 
moment.   .   .   .' 

Still  holding  the  nail  with  the  tongs,  he 
dipped  it  into  the  water  kept  for  cooling ;  it 
sizzed ;  he  held  it  out  toward  her. 

'  It  will  not  burn  you,'  he  said.  '  It  has 
been  cooled  in  the  water.' 

'  Is  it  clean  water  ? '  asked  she. 

'  Do  you  wish  to  drink  ? '  said  he,  with  a 
smile. 


2  8  NANNA 


'  No !  Can  you  lift  that  great  hammer 
there  ? ' 

'  Do  you  mean  the  sledge-hammer  ?  Yes, 
I  can  lift  it,  but  only  father  uses  it.' 

*  Is  he  strong  ? ' 

'  Yes,  he  is  very  strong.  I  can  use  all  the 
other  hammers.  Here  is  the  hand-hammer, 
and  here  is  the  hammer  for  driving  the  nails 
into  the  shoes.' 

He  had  gathered  the  hammers  from  the  shelf 
along  the  vi^all  on  both  sides  of  the  forge,  where 
all  kinds  of  tools  were  placed,  side  by  side. 

'  Show  me  how  a  horse  is  shod  ! '  said  the 
girl,  in  a  somewhat  commanding  tone,  and 
without  taking  any  notice  of  his  hammers. 

He  looked  at  her  inquiringly,  as  though  un- 
certain whether  she  was  jesting  or  in  earnest, 
or  possibly  was  lacking  in  common-sense. 

But  she  seemed  quite  in  earnest,  as  she 
stood  waiting  for  him. 

'  I  cannot  show  you  how  to  shoe  a  horse 
when  I  have  none,  for  I  certainly  cannot  shoe 
you,'  he  answered  at  length. 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOVE  29 

She  reflected  for  a  few  moments. 

'  Show  m.e  a  horse-shoe  ! '  she  said. 

'  I  can  show  you  father's  masterpiece,'  he 
replied,  going  over  to  the  tool-case  by  the  win- 
dow, in  whose  dusty  casement  were  found, 
besides  a  colored  picture  of  Bernadotte,  a  piece 
of  looking-glass,  and  some  soap,  several  horse- 
shoes, some  of  them  broken  and  some  whole. 
He  returned,  bringing  one  of  the  best  of  these. 

*  Look  ! '  said  he  ;  '  here  is  the  groove,  with 
the  holes  through  which  the  nails  are  driven  ; 
and  here  are  the  corks  which  hold  when  the 
ground  is  slippery.  And  here,  on  the  hind- 
shoe,  is  a  little  prong  bending  forward  ;  the 
fore-shoe  is  shaped  more  round.  And,  besides, 
there  are  smoother  shoes,  and  shoes  without 
prongs.  This  flat  tool-box  is  used  when  shoe- 
ing ;  and  here  is  the  hammer,  and  the  hoof- 
knife,  and  the  pincers,  and  the  file,  and  the 
rasp,  and  the  tongs.    And  so  the  horse  is  shod.' 

'  It  was  quickly  done,'  said  she. 

*  Yes,'  answered  he,  without  noticing  her 
tone  ;  '  we  are  always  handy  at  horse-shoeing.' 


30  NANNA 


He  looked  around,  apparently  glad  at  being 
able  to  explain  all  these  things  to  her.  Never 
before  had  the  sooty  smithy  appeared  to  him 
to  hold  so  much  of  interest.  He  thought  (and, 
indeed,  who  does  not  thus  think  when  receiv- 
ing a  visit  in  one's  own  precincts  ?)  that  every- 
thing there,  without  exception,  must  be  of  in- 
terest ;  and  he  began  pouring  out  a  stream  of 
words. 

'  The  anvil  you  know,  of  course  ?  This 
point  here  we  call  the  horn,  and  the  wooden 
part  we  call  the  anvil-block.  We  have  also 
another,  a  smaller  one,  as  you  see.  And  here 
are  other  tools ;  do  you  see  all  these  pairs  of 
tongs  ?     These  we  call  "  Swedish  Nose."  ' 

'  Why  "  Swedish  "  ? ' 

'  I  do  n't  know ;  but  they  are  called  so. 
Here  on  the  bench  you  can  see  the  big  and 
little  vises  ;  and  this  thing,  with  the  two  clamps 
and  a  screw  in  the  middle,  is  an  English  vise- 
pin.' 

'  You  have  more  hammers  than  other  tools, 
it  seems,' 


A  STORT  OF  DANISH  LOVE 


'  Yes,  I  believe  so,'  said  he. 

She  made  inquiries  about  the  bellows,  and 
pulled  the  handle  herself, 

'  This  is  the  bellows,'  said  he,  pointing  be- 
hind the  forge  ;  *•  and  this  is  the  handle.  That 
is  the  fireplace  of  the  forge  ;  these  black  things 
are  the  cinders  ;  and  here  below  is  the  place 
for  the  coal.' 

He  paused  to  take  breath  after  his  some- 
what lengthy  explanations  —  the  longest,  un- 
doubtedly, which  he  had  ever  given. 

She  had  returned  to  the  entrance. 

'  Are  you  going  ? '  asked  he. 

'  Yes,'  she  replied. 

'  Do  n't  you  want  to  hear  a  little  more  .'' ' 

'  No,  it  is  so  black  here  !  ' 

'•  Yes,'  he  said,  looking  sadly  around   him. 

'  And  you  are  such  an  ugly  blacksmith's- 
boy  ! '  And  with  this  she  turned  round,  ran 
across  the  yard,  snapped  her  fingers  at  the  dog, 
and  disappeared. 

He  stood  looking  after  her,  and  wiping  his 
face  under  the  eyes  and  around  the  nose.   Then 


32  NANNA 


he  began  again  with  his  horse-shoe  nails  ;  but 
it  was  slow  work. 

'  Now  you  may  stop  work ! '  cried  his  father's 
voice  across  the  yard. 

Tonnes  started.  Contrary  to  his  custom 
he  flung  his  tools  aside  in  disorder,  tore  off  his 
apron,  threw  water  on  the  fire,  seized  the  soap 
and  looking-glass,  and  eagerly  scrubbed  him- 
self— all  the  time  looking  into  the  glass  to  see 
if  he  were  clean. 

This,  however,  took  some  time ;  and  he 
became  more  and  more  impatient.  But  at  last 
he  had  improved  his  appearance.  Then  he 
went  into  the  small  closet,  took  off  his  work- 
ing-suit, put  on  a  coarse  linen  shirt  and  a  jacket, 
brushed  his  cap,  pressed  it  firmly  on  his  head, 
and  locked  the  smithy. 

He  did  not  look  toward  the  dwelling-house, 
but  went  straight  to  the  dog  and  loosened  him. 
Prussian  sprang  up  with  his  usual  demonstra- 
tions of  affection  ;  but  Tonnes  repulsed  him, 
and,  with  a  depressed  air,  head  held  obliquely, 


A  STORT  OF  DANISH  LO^E  33 

and  watching  the  boy  with  his  one  eye,  the  dog 
trotted  at  his  heels  across  the  yard. 

Somebody  called  Tonnes'  name ;  but  he 
took  no  notice.  He  followed  the  deep  sandy 
way,  winding  between  the  huts  and  houses  of 
the  village.  The  huts,  with  the  small  gardens 
and  dilapidated  tar-coated  palings,  lined  the 
road  on  one  side.  The  more  stately  houses, 
with  their  green-painted  fences,  were  on  the 
other  side. 

In  front  of  such  a  fence  he  stopped.  Inside 
was  the  house,  with  red-brick  walls,  a  straw- 
thatched  roof  with  a  border  of  tiles  for  eaves, 
and  a  green-painted  door  in  the  middle.  In 
the  windows  were  flowers  in  vases  of  delf  dec- 
orated with  gay  rosettes  ;  china  dogs  with  blue 
muzzles  ;  and  stuffed  humming-birds  perched 
upon  a  varnished  branch. 

He  had  often  looked  at  these  magnificent 
things  from  the  outside  ;  but  he  was  always 
impelled  to  stop  and  view  them  again,  and  es- 
pecially that   evening,   when    something   was 


34  NANNA 


Struggling  within    him.      Here  Hved    Nanna. 

She  was  not  at  the  window,  nor  in  the  gar- 
den. He  continued  his  walk.  Perhaps  she 
was  down  upon  the  beach. 

But  as  he  neared  the  beach,  his  steps  grew 
slower.  If  she  were  there,  what  did  he  want 
of  her  ?  Should  he  speak  to  her  ?  or  should 
he  only  pass  bv  and  show  her  that  he  was  not 
black,  was  not  a   ,   .   . 

He  swallowed  the  word  '  smith's-boy,'  and 
his  cheeks  became  a  deep  red. 

He  went  down  to  the  beach. 

Immediately  a  cry  was  raised  from  some 
boysof  his  own  age,  or  older :  'Tonnes!  Come 
here,  Tonnes  ! ' 

He  did  not  answer  the  call,  but  only  bade 
the  dog  follow  him,  and  went  a  short  distance 
away,  to  a  sand-hill,  where  he  threw  himself 
upon  his  face,  with  his  hands  under  his  chin. 
Prussian  lay  down  too,  and  began  nibbling  the 
beach-grass,  looking  up  frequently  at  his  mas- 
ter, who  acted  so  strangely.  Then  the  dog 
rolled  about  in  the  sand,  at  last  resting  on  his 


A  STORT  OF  DANISH  LOVE  35 

side,  with  his  eye  turned  upward,  and  shaking 
his  ears  now  and  then.  Evidently  he  was 
waiting  for  the  weather  to  clear  up  ;  but  he 
was  too  conscientious  to  beg  for  it.  Every- 
one was  very  conscientious  on  this  strand. 

Some  boats  were  returning  home,  well 
loaded.  The  sun  was  just  at  the  verge  of  the 
water,  and  sent  its  last  strong  lustre  playing  over 
the  fresh  tar-coated  boat-sides  and  the  red  sails. 
Tonnes  attentively  followed  every  movement 
of  the  boats  ;  he  saw  how  they  stopped  sud- 
denly when  near  the  shore,  saw  the  men  leap 
overboard  in  their  long  boots  and  quickly  draw 
their  boats  to  land.  Then  the  men  unloaded 
various  things,  in  their  arms  or  on  their  shoul- 
ders, and  threw  them  in  a  heap  upon  the  beach. 
Then  they  paused  a  moment,  with  arms  akimbo, 
and  looked  around.  Then  some  older  men 
and  grown-up  boys  came  loitering  across  the 
sand.  Everything  went  on  leisurely,  almost 
indifferently,  and  yet  as  though  according  to 
previous  understanding.  A  few  words  were 
exchanged^  when  one  of  the  men  fastened  an 


36  NANNA 


iron  hook,  with  a  rope  attached,  to  the  prow  of 
one  of  the  boats,  and  quickly  there  was  formed 
a  Ions:  chain  of  woollen  backs  and  blue  backs, 
of  bare  legs,  or  legs  in  long  boots — all  formed 
on  both  sides  of  the  rope,  and  leading  up  to- 
ward the  land.  Then  there  sounded  a  '  Yo, 
heave  ho  !  Up  with  her  ! '  And  then  all  the 
backs  around  the  rope  leaned  forward,  while 
other  backs  and  other  legs  thrust  themselves 
under  and  along  the  sides  of  the  tar-coated  boat, 
and  slowly  and  noiselessly  she  glided  up  on 
the  strand. 

The  men  let  go,  talked  a  little,  and  then 
beo;an  on  the  next  boat.  And  soon  all  the 
boats  were  landed,  and  stood  with  their  masts 
pointing  here  and  there,  in  a  long  half-circle 
along  the  gently  splashing  water. 

After  Tonnes  had  viewed  the  scene  long 
enough  to  satisfv  himself  that  there  were  no 
human  beings  on  the  beach  besides  men  and 
boys,  he  arose  and  called  to  Prussian.  The 
dog  sprang  up  with  a  straw  between  his  teeth, 
poking  his  nose  several  times  into  a  heap  of 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOVE  37 


sand,  as  though  he  would  say,  '  Now,  at  last, 
the  fun  begins  ';  then  went  leaping  on  ahead 
of  Tonnes,  past  the  last  houses  on  the  strand, 
frightening  some  lean  sheep  that  were  tethered 
by  the  brook,  paddling  to  and  fro  and  lapping 
up  the  water,  and  turning  his  head  constantly 
around  to  see  if  his  master  really  followed,  or 
if  he  too  intended  to  deceive  him. 

Probably  Tonnes  was  not  thinking  of  the 
dog.  He  sprang  carelessly  over  the  brook, 
thereby  wetting  his  shoes,  and  followed  the 
path  across  the  sandy  grass  hills,  where  some 
girls  and  women  were  taking  down  the  nets 
which  had  been  spread  upon  poles  to  dry. 

He  hurried  by  them,  up  toward  the  edge  of 
the  forest,  where  stood  the  wooden  shanty  of 
the  signal  station. 

Old  Jacob  had  just  closed  the  door  behind 
him,  and  now  came  limping  down  the  narrow 
path. 

'  What !   are  vou  there.  Tonnes  ? ' 

'Yes,  'tis  I!' 

'  Perhaps  your  father  is  not  at  home  .? ' 


38  NANNA 


*  Yes,  he  is.' 

'  Then  we  might  walk  together.  There  is 
only  a  light  wind  to-night,  and  It  will  not  be 
likely  to  increase  before  dark.  Have  you  been 
busy  to-day  ? ' 

'  I  want  to  speak  with  you,  Jacob  ! ' 

'  What  do  you  want  ? '  The  old  man  looked 
sharply  out  from  under  the  visor  of  his  cap, 
pushing  it  back  a  little.    '  What  is  the  matter  ? ' 

'  The  matter  is,  that  I  will  not  be  a  smith's 
boy,  I  will  be  a  sailor  —  I  will  be  a  captain!' 

The  old  man  planted  his  cane  firmly  down 
in  the  sand,  and  stared  at  the  boy. 

'  What  is  it  vou  sav  ? 

Tonnes  repeated  the  words  with  the  same 
earnestness. 

'  But  you  cannot  be  a  captain  at  first — I  am 
sure  of  that.    And  what  does  your  father  say  ? ' 

The  boy  hesitated  a  moment. 

'  You  must  see  father  about  it,'  said  he,  in 
decided  tones. 

'  Not  for  the  world  !  What  are  you  think- 
ing of?  '  exclaimed  old  Jacob. 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOVE  39 

He  seized  his  cane  again,  and  limped  on, 
grumbling;  the  boy  at  his  side,  the  dog  circling 
around  them. 

*  It  will  end  badly,  it  can  never  be,'  mut- 
tered Jacob,  half  to  himself.  'You  know  your 
father  as  well  as  I  do.' 

'But  I  will!'  said  the  boy. 

Jacob  looked  at  him. 

'How  old  are  you?' 

'Almost  sixteen.' 

'And  next  year  you  were  to  have  been  a 
journeyman  ?  ' 

The  boy  did  not  answer. 

'Tonnes,  Tonnes,  it  will  never  do.' 

The  boy  whistled  to  the  dog. 

'  Good-by,  Jacob  ! ' 

'Where  are  you  going?' 

'  I  am  going  home  to  tell  my  father  that  I 
will  not  be  black  all  day,  and  make  horse-shoe 
nails.' 

'No — stop;  take  me  with  you  !  If  there 
must  be  a  quarrel,  then  I  will  take  my  share 
jn  it.' 


40  NANNA 


And  with  these  words,  the  old  man,  the  boy, 
and  the  dog  went  together  down  to  the  smithy. 

All  of  them,  including  the  dog,  stepped  into 
the  room  where  sat  the  smith,  with  his  elbows 
on  the  table  and  spectacles  on  his  nose,  trying 
to  read  the  little  paper  from  the  nearest  town. 
He  looked  up  over  his  spectacles,  greeting 
Jacob  with  a  nod,  and  staring  at  the  boy  and 
the  dog. 

*-  You  bring  company  to-day,  Jacob  ? ' 

'  I  met  Tonnes  at  the  signal  station.  He 
wanted  —  he  — ,'  stammered  the  old  man. 

The  smith  eyed  both  of  them  closely. 

'  What  does  he  want  ?   Has  he  done  wrong .? ' 

The  old  man  avoided  his  glance. 

*■  What  is  the  matter  with  the  boy  ? ' 

The  smith  rose.  In  doing  so  he  happened 
to  step  upon  Prussian,  who  had  crept  under 
his  chair.  The  dog  yelped.  The  smith  grew 
red  in  the  face,  and  sprang  to  the  door. 

'  Out  with  the  cur  ! '  cried  he.  '  What  busi- 
ness have  dogs  in  the  house  ? '     And  with  these 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOVE  4 1 

words  he  sent  the  beast  flying  into  the  yard, 
from  a  powerful  thrust  of  his  sHpper. 

'  Now  what  is  the  matter  with  the  boy  ? ' 
said  he.      '  Come,  out  with  it !  ' 

'Your  son  is  resolved  to  go  to  sea  ! '  groaned 
the  old  man. 

The  smith  turned  on  his  heel,  and  stood  in 
front  of  Tonnes.  When  the  eyes  of  the  father 
met  those  of  the  son,  it  seemed  as  though  the 
strong  man  would  throw  himself  upon  the  boy. 
Jacob  had  already  put  out  his  cane  ;  but  the 
smith,  with  a  great  effort,  turned  away  and  be- 
gan pacing  the  floor. 

'  I  thought  so  !    I  thought  so  ! '  he  muttered. 

Then  he  sat  down  en  a  chair  by  the  wall, 
and  made  a  sign  to  the  boy  to  leave  the  room. 

Tonnes  obeyed,  after  having  exchanged 
glances  with  Jacob.  As  soon  as  he  reached 
the  yard,  he  chained  Prussian,  and  then  stood 
stroking  the  dog's  head.  The  animal  responded 
gratefully  to  the  caress  ;  but  the  boy's  thoughts 
were  far  away. 


42  NANNA 


Then  Jacob  appeared  in  the  door,  closed 
one  eye,  and  beckoned  to  Tonnes.  He  entered 
the  house.      His  father  eyed  him  sharply. 

'You  have  my  permission  to  be  a  ship- 
builder, and  you  can  begin  with  the  boat- 
builder  Jonassen.' 

Tonnes  returned  to  the  kennel,  and  stood 
there  smiling,  while  Prussian  licked  his  hard 
brown  hands. 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOVE  43 


11. 

Captain  Andreas  Spang  stood  outside  of 
boat-builder  Jonassen's  shed.  He  had  come 
limping  down  to  the  beach,  leaning  on  a  staff. 
On  his  last  voyage  he  had  hurt  his  leg,  and  was 
to  stay  at  home  one  trip.  The  leg  had  im- 
proved ;  the  heavy,  portly  man,  with  rather 
flushed  face,  and  somewhat  scanty  hair  combed 
forward  over  his  ears,  had  at  last  got  out  of  bed 
and  out  of  doors.  None  of  his  friends  and  com- 
panions, the  other  seafaring  captains,  were,  how- 
ever, at  home  at  this  time  of  the  year.  Those 
who  had  '  laid  up  '  were  too  old  and  dull-witted 
for  him,  and  he  looked  upon  the  fishermen  and 
boatmen  as  simple  folks,  whom,  of  course,  he 
might  greet  civilly  and  address  a  few  words  to, 
but  with  whom  it  was  impossible  for  Captain 
Andreas  Spang  to  hold  much  intercourse. 
The  captain  felt  lonesome. 


44  NANNA 


It  is  rather  trying  to  belong  to  the  '  upper 
crust '  when  a  man  is  obliged  to  walk  around 
alone  and  keep  up  his  dignity. 

At  home,  in  the  red-painted  house,  with  the 
green  doors,  the  china  dogs,  and  the  humming- 
birds in  the  window,  were  only  Nanna  and 
an  old  woman,  a  kind  of  aunt  of  his  late  wife. 
His  child  he  loved,  to  be  sure ;  but  the  girl 
was  not  able  to  occupy  him  all  the  long  day 
through  ;  the  less  so,  since  she  was  often  away 
on  her  own  account,  and  —  especially  since 
her  father  had  got  out  of  bed — romped  around 
outside  the  house.  With  the  housekeeper  he 
now  and  then  quarrelled  in  his  blustering  way  ; 
but  even  that  kind  of  recreation  may  grow 
monotonous  in  time.  The  old  skipper  really 
felt  lonesome. 

His  two  '  women  of  the  house,'  as  he  called 
them,  had  nursed  him  faithfully  while  in  bed. 
He  himself  admitted  that.  But  whether  he 
would  admit  that  he  had  been  a  difficult  pa- 
tient, or  not.,  was  less  certain.  We  know  so 
little  about  ourselves ;  and,  least  of  all,  were 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOVE  45 

the  people  of  this  coast  inclined  to  a  habit  of 
introspection.  Not  for  many  years  had  the 
old  captain  been  confined  to  his  hammock  so 
long  at  a  time.  It  was  torture  to  him.  He 
showed  it  by  scolding  and  blustering  like  a 
small  hurricane.  He  had  a  thunderous  voice, 
and  he  made  good  use  of  it.  Sometimes  the 
thunder  was  accompanied  by  lightning  :  all  ob- 
jects within  convenient  reach  were  used  as 
missiles.  More  than  once  the  aunt  and  Nanna 
had  been  obliged  to  duck  their  heads  or  retreat 
behind  the  door.  Like  most  hot-headed  per- 
sons, he  repented  his  anger  almost  immediately, 
and  resolved  solemnly  never  again  to  use  a 
pillow  in  any  improper  way.  He  kept  this  res- 
olution, to  be  sure, —  after  he  got  well  again. 
But  his  blustering  habits  had  thus  grown  upon 
him,  so  that  he  could  not  throw  them  off  with- 
out throwing  himself  off.  He  v/as  really  kind- 
hearted  when  at  home,  although  passers -bv 
might  get  a  contrary  impression.  Toward  his 
daughter  he  was  very  weak.  She  had  a  pecu- 
liar quiet  way  of  meeting  the  storm,  and,  as 


^'- 


NANNA 


soon  as  it  had  passed  over,  she  spoke  and  acted 
just  as  she  liked  —  as  if  there  had  been  no 
storm  at  all.  Then,  when  the  frown  reap- 
peared on  the  old  man's  brow,  and  certain 
twitchings  of  his  under  lip  indicated  that  the 
storm  might  return,  the  girl  threw  her  arms 
around  his  neck  and  clung  there  until  he 
showed  signs  of  yielding.  She  adored  the  o\d 
man,  possibly  just  because  he  was  so  weak. 
*  It  is  impossible  not  to  let  that  lass  have  her 
own  way,'  he  declared,  not  without  a  certain 
pride.  He  recognized  the  family  blood  in  her. 
But  if  his  boisterousness  was  checked  at 
home  by  his  own  kind-heartedness,  and  espe- 
cially bv  his  complaisance  toward  his  daughter, 
he  sought  amends  when  outside  of  his  house. 
Although  he  could  not  properly  be  called  quar- 
relsome, yet  his  obstinacy,  his  hot-headedness, 
and  a  certain  pride,  inherited  from  his  fore- 
fathers, in  being  '  the  first  man  of  the  place,' 
easily  brou<rht  him  into  variance  with  those 
around  him.  The  people  of  this  coast  were 
not  gentle  and  pliable.     Yet  his  standing  with 


A  STORT  OF  DANISH  LOVE  47 

his  friends  and  cronies,  the  other  captains,  was 
tolerably  good.  But  to  the  custom-house  offi- 
cer on  guard  upon  this  coast  he  could  not  be 
reconciled.  He  had  an  old  standing  feud  with 
him,  and  the  wound  was  unhealed  by  time. 
The  common  people  of  the  town  he  kept,  as 
before  mentioned,  at  a  certain  distance.  '  A 
man  must  never  be  familiar  with  those  with 
whom  he  would  not  eat  porridge  at  his  table,'  he 
remarked.  This,  however,  did  not  prevent  him 
from  extending  to  them  a  helping  hand  when 
occasion  offered,  in  a  patriarchal  way,  only  not 
directly.  Thus,  when,  a  ifw  years  before,  the 
poorer  quarter  of  the  town  had  suffered  from 
a  fire.  Captain  Spang  sent  home  from  the  for- 
eign port  where  he  had  received  the  bad  news 
a  nice  little  sum  to  the  sufferers.  But  after- 
ward, when  some  of  them,  with  a  speaker  at 
their  head,  called  on  him  at  his  house  to  ex- 
press their  gratitude,  he  rather  curtly  inter- 
rupted the  orator,  and  recommended  the  dep- 
utation to  turn  outdoors,  and  not  to  waste  his 
time  or  their  own  with  such  nonsense. 


48  NANNA 


He  was  standing,  this  afternoon,  down  on 
the  beach,  outside  the  open  shed  of  the  boat- 
builder. 

He  glanced  over  the  bay.  The  wind  blew 
off-shore.  Some  vessels  had  cast  anchor  out 
there.  He  seemed  to  be  inspecting  one  of  the 
ships  with  great  interest,  and  nodded  to  himself. 
A  light  swell,  a  greeting  from  the  fresh  wind 
out  at  sea,  rolled  against  the  beach  ;  near  by, 
half  aground  and  half  at  anchor,  lay  the  cap- 
tain's yawl,  which  he  used  occasionally,  either 
for  shore-hunting  or  for  catching  codfish. 

He  turned  round  and  looked  into  the  shed. 

'  Holloa  !      Who  are  vou  ? ' 

Tonnes  was  in  there,  alone.  A  boat  lay  in 
the  stocks,  and  another  one  was  almost  fin- 
ished, upon  which  the  boy  had  some  slight 
work  to  do.  The  shed  had  an  odor  of  glue, 
tar,  and  wood-shavings.  Outside,  it  was  fresh  ; 
the  sea  sighed  deeply  ;  the  clouds  were  drift- 
ing seaward  like  ships  standing  out.  Tonnes 
glanced  up  from  his  work  with  the  great  augur, 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOVE  49 

and  looked  at  the  man  who  was  speaking  to 
him. 

*•  Oh,  it  is  you,  the  smith's  boy.  Tonnes  ! 
Can  you  build  boats,  my  lad  ?  ' 

And  with  these  words  the  captain  limped 
inside  the  shed  and  began  examining  the  fin- 
ished boat  with  the  air  of  a  connoisseur.  He 
put  his  cane  aside,  placed  his  hands  upon  his 
knees,  and  in  this  bent  position,  not  unlike  a 
bear  ready  to  dance,  he  scanned  the  water-line 
of  the  boat  from  stem  to  stern,  felt  with  his 
hand  along  the  boards  bending  forward  from  the 
stern,  put  his  thumb  into  the  seams,  knocked 
here  and  there  on  a  pin  or  a  nail-head  or  a 
copper  rivet  which  was  not  yet  fully  driven  in. 
Stood  upon  tiptoe  to  follow  the  gunwale,  tried 
the  oar-locks  in  which  the  oars  should  rest, 
muttered  something  about  the  advisability  of  a 
wash-board  which  would  increase  the  strength 
of  the  boat  without  injury  to  its  form,  and 
finally  went  around  to  the  prow,  seized  with 
one  hand  the  iron-clad  nose  and  with  the  other 


50  NANNA 


gave  the  bow  a  gentle  slap,  about  as  a  Bedouin 
finishes  a  satisfactory  examination  of  a  new 
horse  with  a  caressing  stroke  of  the  animal's 
breast. 

Tonnes  had  stepped  aside  while  the  exam- 
ination was  going  on,  and  had  followed  each 
movement  of  the  captain  with  apparent  defer- 
ence. 

'  Push  that  box  over  here,  my  boy,  and  let 
me  get  up  and  examine  her  within  boards,' 

The  captain  got  upon  the  box  and  inspected 
the  inside  of  the  boat. 

'Jump  up  here,  and  let  us  see  what  you  are 
good  for,'  said  the  captain. 

The  boy  leaped  up  like  a  cat.  The  frank- 
ness of  the  great  man  deprived  the  boy  of  his 
first  bashfulness.  Both  of  them  were  seated 
there  ;  the  old  seaman  on  the  boat's  beam,  the 
boy  on  the  gunwale.  Everything  was  exam- 
ined, and  the  boy  was  asked  for  his  opinion. 
He  grew  animated  ;  he  even  passed  a  {t.v^  crit- 
icisms, which  he  had  scarcely  dared  to  let  his 
master  hear,  but  which  now  escaped  him  :  She 


A  STORT  OF  DANISH  LOFE  5  I 

was  too  hollow  in  the  bottom,  he  thought  — 
yes,  perhaps  — ;  it  could  be  seen  by  opening 
the  bulkhead  hatches  and  raising  the  floor- 
boards,— yes,  yes,  perhaps  ;  she  was  a  little  too 
narrow  toward  the  stern,  and  rather  heavy  in 
the  waist,  and  fell  off  again  a  little  too  sud- 
denly toward  the  prow.  She  might  have  been 
curved  a  little  more  gradually,  and  have  less 
belly  ;  but,  after  all,  it  was  a  beautiful  boat, 
really  an  excellent  boat ;  happy  was  the  man 
who  owned  such  a  boat,  and  could  always  sail 
in  it.   .   .   . 

'  Instead  of  standing  here  warming  the  glue- 
pot,  eh  !  You  are  a  bright  boy  ;  you  ought  to 
be  a  sailor  ! '  concluded  the  captain. 

Tonnes  made  no  answer,  but  jumped  down 
from  the  gunwale  and  placed  the  box  so  that 
the  portly  man  could  easily  reach  solid  ground 
again.  But  when  the  boy  once  more  stood 
side  by  side  with  the  great  Captain  Spang,  he 
felt  his  own  insignificance,  and  was  silent. 

The  captain  took  his  cane  and  limped  out 
of  the  shed. 


NANNA 


Tonnes  looked  after  him. 

The  captain  stopped,  looked  up  at  the  clouds, 
looked  about  the  beach  to  assure  himself  that 
no  custom-house  officer  was  stealing  around, 
then  looked  out  toward  the  vessels  in  the  bay, 
turned  abruptly  round,  and  said  : 

'  You  may  go  out  with  me  in  the  yawl.' 

He  pointed  with  his  cane  toward  the  shore 
where  his  boat  was  lying. 

The  boy  opened  his  eyes  wide,  and  laid 
aside  the  auger  which  he  had  again  taken  up. 

'  You  may  go  with  me,  I  say  j  you  can  row 
for  me.  That  cursed  leg  makes  me  unfit  for 
the  boat  •,  I  will  make  it  all  right  with  Master 
Jonasscn.' 

It  was  tempting.  Tonnes  looked  around 
the  shed,  looked  at  Captain  Spang  and  his  boat, 
and  out  over  the  sea,  and  then  they  went  to- 
gether down  to  the  beach  where  the  yawl  lay. 

Tonnes  had  hard  work  with  the  boat,  for 
the  captain's  leg  made  him  unfit  indeed.  At 
last  they  got  off  from  shore,  and  the  boy  took 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOVE  53 


the  oars.  The  boat  was  but  partly  rigged  ; 
there  was  a  bit  of  sail  on  a  small  mast ;  the 
captain  got  the  mast  raised  and  unfurled  the 
sail,  and  soon  Tonnes  needed  to  row  no  more  ; 
the  fresh  breeze  carried  them  rapidly  along. 

The  boy  took  in  the  oars,  remarking  to  him- 
self that  one  of  them  was  not  good  for  much. 

*■  We  are  bound  for  the  brig  there,'  said  the 
captain,  pointing  to  one  of  the  vessels  lying  at 
anchor, 

*  She  's  a  fruit  trader,  I  suppose  ? '  remarked 
the  boy. 

'  Yes,'  was  the  answer. 

Captain  Spang  had  again  grown  silent.  Per- 
haps he  repented  that  he  had  already  been  too 
familiar  with  the  boy.  His  dignity  must  be 
maintained,  especially  now,  as  they  approached 
the  brig,  whose  master  was  one  of  the  '  old 
boys,'  Captain  Spang's  companion  and  comrade 
on  many  a  merry  trip  in  the  Mediterranean. 

They  got  under  the  side  of  the  heavy-laden 

vessel.     The  captain  hailed  the  men  on  deck, 

4 


54  NANNA 


and  asked  for  a  rope's-end ;  inquiring  also  if 
the  skipper  was  on  board, 

*Yes,  of  course!'  cried  a  heavy  man,  of 
about  Captain  Spang's  build.  *  Come  aboard, 
old  fellow  ! ' 

'  Easier  said  than  done  !  One  of  my  lower- 
masts  has  got  chafed,'  answered  Captain  Spang. 
'  You  will  have  to  lower  some  steps  down 
here.' 

The  skipper  ordered  the  accommodation 
ladder  rigged  and  lowered  over  the  gunwale. 
Captain  Spang  climbed  up,  and  immediately 
went  below  with  his  friend.  No  notice  was 
taken  of  the  boy. 

Tonnes  remained  in  the  boat,  and  for  some 
time  patiently  kept  her  clear  of  the  vessel's 
side.  The  sea  was  rather  heavy  out  here ; 
the  wind  grew  fresher  and  fresher;  the  brig 
rolled  a  little,  and  the  yawl  pitched. 

Tonnes  hailed.  Some  heads  appeared  over 
the  gunwale  ;  they  stared  down  upon  the  rude 
boat ;  the  heads  retreated  ;  but  one  remained , 
it  proved  to  be  the  cook's. 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOVE  55 

'Can't  you  pay  out  the  line,  so  that  I  can 
drift  aft?'  asked  Tonnes. 

'Are  you  from  that  town  there? '  asked  the 
head,  in  a  distinct  Funen  dialect. 

'Yes,  I  am.      Pay  out  the  line!' 

'Perhaps  you  are  a  son  of  the  man  who 
came  aboard  ? ' 

'No,  I  am  not.  Give  me  a  warp  and  let 
me  drift  aft.    The  boat  will  go  to  pieces  here.' 

'Perhaps  you  are  hungry?' 

'Pay  out  the  line,  I  say  !' 

'You  may  come  aboard!'  said  the  cook, 
kindly,  preparing  at  length  to  pay  out  the  line. 

Tonnes  climbed  up,  and  the  yawl  drifted 
aft.  The  boy  took  a  seat  outside  the  caboose, 
and  talked  occasionally  with  the  cook,  while 
he  glanced  admiringly  around  and  aloft.  The 
brig  was  like  most  fruit-traders,  rigged  almost 
like  a  man-of-war.  The  long  slender  studding 
sail  booms  pointed  out  beyond  the  yard-arms 
like  the  steering  feathers  of  the  kingfisher's 
pointed  wings,  as  though  they  would  at  once 
augment  the  vessel's  speed  and  balance  its  side 


56  NANNA 


motion.  Stays,  shrouds,  and  backstays,  tyes, 
halyards,  braces,  and  sheets,  were  as  taut- 
hauled  as  possible  ;  the  masts  were  leaning  aft, 
while  the  mast-heads  were  bravely  stayed  for- 
ward ;  the  bowsprit  followed  the  curve  of  the 
gunwale,  and  was  '  drawn  right  out  of  the 
nose,'  and  then  at  the  bobstay  of  the  jibboom 
bent  a  little  downward  in  a  manner  to  gladden 
the  heart  of  one  experienced  with  the  sea,  and 
which  Tonnes  could  follow  and  appreciate  by 
instinct,  though  it  is  beyond  all  description  — 
like  the  fine  points  of  a  race-horse  which  is 
speeding  over  the  ground. 

Tonnes  let  his  eyes  roam  about  the  deck, 
where  the  same  order  and  cleanliness  prevailed 
that  he  had  seen  aloft.  Even  the  water-casks, 
which  were  roped  starboard  and  larboard  be- 
tween the  stanchions  of  the  bulwark,  had  shin- 
ing, polished  bands  of  brass  ;  the  racks  around 
the  masts,  the  gangway,  and  the  capstan  on  the 
windlass,  had  brass  bands  also.  How  they 
shone  !  Tonnes  felt  a  thrill  within  his  heart 
which  he  had  never  felt  before. 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOVE  57 


Might  he  be  allowed  to  go  aloft  awhile  ? 
'■  Yes,  why  not  ? '  said  the  cook.  And  he  went 
aloft. 

He  sat  astride  the  foretopsail-yard.  He  felt 
like  a  young  god  sitting  for  the  first  time  upon 
his  own  temple-roof.  The  sun  was  sinking, 
and  colored  the  distant  coast  with  strong  tints 
of  red  and  yellow.  He  saw  the  white  downs  : 
they  were  yellow ;  he  saw  the  yellow  gables  : 
they  were  like  the  brass  bands  around  the 
water-barrels  ;  the  red  houses  were  blood-red  : 
the  forest  behind  them  was  violet.  He  singled 
out  some  particular  houses.  There  was  the 
schoolmaster's,  with  the  climbing-pole.  Well, 
now  he  was  higher  up  than  the  time  when  he 
frightened  his  honest  old  teacher  by  standing 
erect  upon  the  cross-piece.  Then  Nanna  had 
stood  below  and  admired  him ;  and  so  he  had 
run  forward  and  back  in  his  stockings  along 
the  narrow  bar,  and  ended  by  sliding  down  the 
smooth  pole,  holding  by  his  hands  alone. 
Where  was  Captain   Spang's   house  ?     Was 


58  NyiNNA 


Nanna  standing  outside  ?  If  she  could  only 
see  him  now  ! 

Then  his  eye  fell  upon  the  sooty  roof  and 
chimney  of  the  smithy.  This  dampened  his 
jov  a  little.  It  grew  still  more  dampened  when 
his  eye  rested  on  Master  Jonassen's  shed  down 
by  the  beach.  What  would  be  the  result  of 
this  excursion  ?  It  would  be  late  before  they 
got  back  to  land.  The  sun  had  set  behind  the 
forest ;  only  one  long  glittering  streak  ran 
across  the  bluish  hills  where  the  farm-houses 
rose  here  and  there  like  molehills.  The  sky 
was  overcast ;  the  clouds  lay  in  layers,  like 
driving  ice  ;  their  yellow  torn  borders  stretched 
over  his  head.  The  wind  was  strong  now. 
It  shook  him  as  he  sat  there,  and  whined  and 
howled  in  the  rigging  around  him.  His  heart 
grew  a  little  heavy.  How  should  he  really 
make  it  all  right  with  his  master  ? — and  after- 
ward, what  would  the  smith  say  ? 

He  shook  it  off  again.  Was  not  the  cap- 
tain such  a  great  man  ?   would  he  not  protect 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOVE  59 

him  ?  For  awhile  he  could  feel  perfectly  se- 
cure. He  sat  on  the  topsail-yard  of  a  fine 
vessel.  He  fancied  that  he  had  been  ordered 
up  there  to  spread  the  sail.  He  fancied  he  saw 
the  canvas  fill  and  swell  before  the  wind.  Yes 
—  he  sailed,  he  crossed  the  ocean,  he  was  a 
sailor,  he  returned;  he  was  full-grown, —  had 
on  a  jacket,  with  money  in  his  pocket,  and  wore 
a  gold  chain  across  a  black  silk  vest.  He  had 
also  some  present  for  Nanna  in  his  pocket, 
although  she  had  always  treated  him  so  con- 
temptuously. Blacksmith's  boy  !  no,  he  was 
a  sailor,  he  entered  her  father's  door,  he  seized 
her  hand,  and  she  did  not  laugh  at  him.  .  .  . 
He  dreamed  the  dreams  of  a  boy  who  only 
knew  life  and  the  world  on  his  own  strand,  and 
to  whom  a  vessel  is  the  embodiment  of  beauty 
and  independence,  and  the  sea  the  way  to  fu- 
ture happiness. 

*  Ahoy  there  ! '  cried  a  voice  from  the  deck 
below. 

Tonnes  looked  down.     The  two  captains 


6o  NANNA 


were  standing  at  the  gangway,  the  cook  car- 
ried a  big  basket  with  bottles  and  packages, 
and  the  mate  hailed  the  boy. 

He  was  quick  as  a  cat — to  the  eyident  pleas- 
ure of  the  crew  —  up  and  along  the  yard-arm, 
down  the  topmast  barstay,  out  over  the  gun- 
wale and  down  the  channels  to  the  yawl,  which 
was  hauled  alono;side  of  the  bris;. 

'  Well,  you  little  monkey  !  '  said  Captain 
Spang,  but  at  the  same  time  smiling,  as  he 
made  a  threatening  movement  with  his  hand. 

Both  the  captains  were  flushed,  and  they 
bade  each  other  good-bye  and  pressed  each 
other's  hands  most  affectionately.  Evidently 
it  was  not  for  nothing  that  the  brig  had  on 
board  the  hot  Mediterranean  wines. 

Captain  Spang  was  helped  down  the  ladder, 
the  big  basket,  with  the  many  bottles  and  other 
contents,  was  lowered  to  the  yawl ;  the  basket 
was  large  and  the  yawl  was  small ;  the  heavy 
and  somewhat  clumsy  Captain  Spang  seated 
himself,  with  legs  stretched  over  the  basket.. 
Tonnes  seated  himself  at  the  oars. 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOVE  6 1 

'  Good-bye  !  good-bye  ! '  The  two  captains 
greeted  each  other  once  more,  and  exchanged 
the  last  words.  Spang  wished  that  the  wind 
would  soon  blow  from  another  corner,  so  that 
the  brig  might  set  sail,  and  the  other  expressed' 
the  opinion  that  the  wind  would  remain  un- 
changed during  the  night,  only  growing  fresher 
and  fresher. 

'  We  shall  have  rain,'  he  called  after  the 
boat ;  '  be  careful  to  make  land  before  the 
cigars  get  wet  ! ' 

'  Thanks  ;  I  have  a  young  crew  at  the  oars. 
Row  on ! ' 

Captain  Spang  sat  so  that  the  last  rays  of 
the  setting  sun  shone  straight  in  his  face.  He 
flushed  crimson,  and  smiled  constantly,  while 
he  smoked  a  Spanish  cigar,  the  outer  leaf  of 
which  the  wind  tore  up.  Tonnes  was  obliged 
to  use  all  his  strength  to  row  the  boat  against 
the  wind.  The  captain  encouraged  the  boy 
with  various  exhortations  of  a  rather  spicy  na- 
ture. Tonnes  felt  a  little  strange  on  account 
of  his  mighty  patron. 


62  NANNA 


Suddenly  the  latter  raised  himself  from  his 
seat,  almost  capsizing  the  cranky  yawl. 

'  I  thought  so  !  There  he  goes  snuffing, 
that  sharper  !  Pshaw,  my  friend,  you  shall  not 
bring  Andreas  Spang  to  grief  because  he  comes 
to  land  with  wine  that  is  not  marked.  Back, 
back,  my  boy  ! ' 

The  captain  eased  the  helm,  and  the  yawi 
turned  her  prow  away  from  the  land. 

Then,  as  he  rowed  out  to  sea  again.  Tonnes 
saw  someone  between  the  downs  upon  the 
beach.  This  person,  who  evidently  had  sought 
to  hide  himself  behind  the  sand-dunes,  waved 
his  handkerchief  when  he  noticed  the  changed 
course  of  the  boat. 

'  Yes,  wave  away,  you  rascal !  We  can 
hoist  our  handkerchief,  too.' 

Then  the  captain,  with  some  difficulty, 
raised  the  small  mast  and  hoisted  the  sail,  and 
they  went  rushing  out  to  sea.  But  soon  the 
captain  turned  the  boat  to  the  wind,  let  go  the 
sheet,  that  the  low  boat  should  not  be  filled, 
and  held  her  course  parallel  with  the  coast. 


A  STORV  OF  DANISH  LOTE  63 

out  toward  the  farther  promontory  of  the  bay. 

'  We  will  give  him  enough  of  it ! '  exclaimed 
the  captain  with  a  loud  laugh,  as  he  pointed 
toward  the  beach,  where,  in  the  gathering  twi- 
light, the  wandering  figure  was  dimly  seen  fol- 
lowing the  course  of  the  boat.  Tonnes  grew 
a  little  uneasy.  The  affair  seemed  to  lengthen 
out.      What  would  his  father  say  ? 

The  captain  paid  no  attention  to  the  boy. 
He  had  got  hold  of  a  bottle  and  drank  from  it. 
Then  he  hummed  a  little,  then  he  drank  again, 
then  he  made  some  remarks  about  the  custom- 
house officer,  who  would  now  be  permitted  to 
walk  a  couple  of  miles  and  have  only  his  labor 
for  his  pains.  By  and  by  darkness  began  to 
set  in ;  the  wind  grew  stronger  and  stronger, 
and  so  did  the  billows  out  there  in  the  open 
part  of  the  bay.     Then  the  boy  said  : 

'  Captain,  shall  we  not  try  to  make  land  ? ' 

Captain  Spang  raised  the  bottle  for  the  last 
time  and  threw  it  into  the  sea.  Then  he  got 
hold  of  a  new  one. 

'  What  do  you  say,  my  boy  ?     Come,  take 


64  NANNA 


z  cordial.  You  are  a  brave  boy.  Boys  are 
never  scared.  I  will  make  it  all  right  for  you 
when  we  come  to  land  !  We  will  only  tire 
him  out,  that  fellow  ashore.  Your  health  ;  the 
exciseman's  health.      Oh,  ho  ! ' 

With  an  inexpressible  feeling  of  anxiety  and 
shame.  Tonnes  made  the  discovery  that  the 
great  man  at  the  helm  was  drunk. 

He  looked  toward  the  land.  The  high  bluff 
which  bounded  the  bay  was  scarcely  to  be  seen. 
During  the  last  quarter  of  an  hour  their  course 
had  again  been  straight  out.  The  storm  was 
now  upon  them,  and  the  pointed  yawl,  with 
its  poor  little  sail,  its  ill-proportioned  afterhold, 
its  drunken  helmsman  and  childish  crew,  flew 
before  the  wind  out  into  the  open  sea. 

The  boy  cried  to  the  captain  : 

'  Captain,  let  us  turn  back  ! ' 

'  To  hell  1 '  babbled  Captain  Spang,  as  his 
head  fell  forward  upon  his  breast,  and  the  bot- 
tle dropped  from  his  hand. 

Tonnes  grew  frightened.  The  waves  broke 
on  either  side  of  the  overladen  boat,  or  chased 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOFE  65 

roaring  after  it.  If  a  single  billow  broke  over 
them,  the  boat  would  be  filled  ;  or  if — which 
there  was  too  much  reason  to  fear — the  body 
of  the  heavy  man  lurched  to  one  side,  they 
would  capsize  instantly. 

Tonnes  hesitated  a  minute.  For  one-half 
of  this  minute  he  was  almost  paralyzed  with 
fear  ;  they  must  inevitably  drown.  In  the  next 
half,  his  instinct  awoke.  On  this  open  strand, 
people  are  born  with  instincts,  and  grow  up 
with  them  for  lack  of  knowledge.  He  took 
in  the  entire  situation.  To  row  against  this 
wind  and  sea  was  impossible  for  his  strength. 
Besides,  one  oar  was  half  broken.  The  sail 
must  stay  as  long  as  the  boat  was  able  to  stand 
it,  and  they  must  run  with  the  wind  until  they 
dared  to  risk  a  change  of  course.  They  were 
compelled  to  stand  out  into  the  open  sea. 

First  of  all,  Tonnes  must  take  the  rudder. 
He  bent  down  from  the  mast-thwart,  where 
he  was  sitting,  and  gently  hauled  the  heavy 
basket  toward  him.  With  great  difficulty  he 
presently  succeeded  in  sliding  the  basket  for- 


66  NANNA 


ward  over  the  floor-boards,  until,  with  its  bur- 
den of  the  captain's  legs,  it  reached  the  middle 
of  the  yawl.  The  trunk  and  head  of  the  cap- 
tain followed  gently.  The  stern-thwart  was 
fiee ;  the  captain  rested  on  the  bottom  of  the 
boat,  and  increased  its  trimness.  Then  Tonnes 
took  the  bottles  and  threw  them  overboard  one 
after  the  other,  together  with  the  wet  pack- 
ages. Andreas  Spang  was  sufficient  ballast,  he 
thought,  and  the  brig's  bottles  had  already  done 
enough  damage.  One  bottle  the  boy  kept  with 
him  aft.  It  was  for  the  night  which  was  to 
follow  —  a  long,  wet  autumn  night,  in  which 
the  boy  must  steer  and  bail  and  look  out  for 
sails  and  keep  up  his  courage,  while  the  yawl 
scudded  before  the  gale  in  the  high  sea,  and 
the  great  man  lay  a  dead  weight  in  the  bottom 
of  his  own  poor  craft  at  the  feet  of  the  brave 
boy.   .   .   . 

When,  toward  dawn.  Captain  Andreas 
Spang  opened  his  heavy  eyelids,  and  stared  with 
a  half-stupid,  half-confused  air  up  from  his  un- 
easy couch,  the  first  object  he  saw  was  some 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOVE  67 

gray  clouds  with  white  borders  passing  over 
his  head.  Then  he  saw  the  fresh  green  tops 
of  the  billows,  which  now  rose  above  and  now 
disappeared  below  the  gunwale  of  his  boat. 
Presently  there  came  a  heavy  blow  against  the 
boat's  side;  it  shook  the  frail  shell  in  all  its 
seams,  and  a  shower  of  spray  poured  over  him. 
It  was  an  infinitely  small  portion  of  one  of 
these  tops  which  had  been  impolite  enough 
to  awaken  the  great  captain.  He  rubbed  his 
eyes  with  his  fingers,  and  half  arose.  In  an 
instant  he  understood  it  all ;  he  was  a  suffi- 
ciently old  seaman  to  need  no  explanation. 

He  sprawled  in  the  water  in  which  he  wa^ 
sitting,  and  turned  his  head  to  glance  at  the 
pale  boy  at  the  rudder.  Tonnes  cast  down  his 
eyes. 

Captain  Spang  said  nothing.  He  looked  ai 
the  sail ;  it  was  shortened  as  well  as  could  be 
done  by  means  of  a  couple  of  small  and  poor 
reef-points.  He  looked  at  the  basket,  which 
was  empty. 

Tonnes  handed  him  his  bottle  ;   it  was  but 


68  NANNA 


half  full.  The  neck  of  the  bottle  was  broken 
just  below  the  cork.  Tonnes  remarked  quietly 
that  the  captain  must  be  careful  not  to  cut 
himself. 

Captain  Spang  took  the  bottle,  looked  into 
the  boy's  eyes,  and  then  cast  down  his  own, 
took  a  long  draught,  returned  the  bottle,  took 
off  his  oilcloth  hat,  and  began  to  bail  out  the 
boat. 

They  bailed  and  steered  by  turns,  without 
exchanging  remarks  other  than  some  very  short 
and  merely  technical  ones.  When  the  sun 
rose,  yellow  and  shining,  over  the  bluish-green 
billow  tops  and  the  white  foam,  Tonnes  cried 
in  a  hoarse  voice  : 

'  Captain,  there  is  a  sail  to  leeward  ! ' 

Thev  bore  down  upon  it.  A  couple  of  hours 
later  thev  were  under  the  bow  of  the  brig, 
which  was  running  before  the  wind  with  short- 
ened sails,  in  the  heavy  sea, 

'  Now  watch,  my  boy.  Bite  for  your  life  ! ' 
cried  Captain  Spang. 

Along  the  low  gunwale  of  the  brig  stood 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOVE  69 

the  men,  in  great  excitement,  ready  with  lines 
and  life-belts.  At  the  helm,  the  captain  of  the 
brig  himself  mancEuvred  the  vessel.  A  few 
tackings  were  made  in  vain,  and  some  lines 
thrown.  Now  a  billow  lifted  the  frail  yawl 
high  above  the  gunwale  of  the  brig,  and  when 
the  boat  dove  again  the  brig  had  shot  up  through 
the  wind.  The  yawl  struck  ;  Tonnes  and  Cap- 
tain Spang  hung  in  the  chainwale,  they  did  not 
themselves  know  how,  but  they  felt  a  pull  at 
their  arms  as  if  almost  torn  from  the  shoulders. 
A  dozen  hands  seized  their  hair,  their  clothes, 
their  bodies,  and  the  two  boat's-mates  lay  upon 
the  deck  of  the  brig,  while  the  loose  thwarts 
and  a  single  crushed  board  of  the  yawl  were 
hurled  far  out  upon  the  seething  billow. 

*■  Take  care  of  that  bov  ! '  Tonnes  heard 
Captain  Spang's  voice.  '  He  is  worth  a  whole 
ship's  crew.' 

Then  Tonnes  felt  himself  lifted  up  and  car- 
ried below.     And  then  he  felt  no  more. 


70  NANNA 


III. 

When  the  wind  shifted  during  the  night,  the 
brig  had  been  obliged  to  leave  her  anchorage 
and  make  for  the  open  sea.  During  the  day 
the  storm  subsided ;  and  in  the  afternoon  the 
weather  was  fair.  At  night  the  brig  tacked 
back  to  her  former  anchorage. 

In  the  morning,  very  early.  Tonnes  and 
Captain  Spang  were  taken  ashore.  The  boy 
had  slept  like  a  stone,  and  was  quite  fresh  again. 
The  captain  declared  the  whole  affair  to  be 
^  mere  nonsense,  not  worth  making  any  fuss 
about.'  Nevertheless,  whenever  he  thought 
himself  unobserved,  he  sent  the  boy  glances 
from  his  bloodshot  eyes  which  might  have  had 
some  gentler  meaning ;  and  when  the  brig's 
boat  neared  the  land,  a  peculiar  uneasiness  was 
apparent  in  the  behavior  of  the  captain,  who 
was  usually  so  stiff  and  reserved. 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOFE  7  I 

Those  at  home  evidently  believed  it  was  all 
over  with  the  captain. 

'  Nonsense  to  have  women  wait  for  one  ! ' 
growled  Spang,  through  his  beard. 

Tonnes,  who  thought  the  captain  had  spoken 
to  him,  asked  what  he  had  said. 

'  Nothing, —  some  nonsense.  You  may  go 
home  with  me  and  wait  there,  while  I  go  and 
talk  with  your  father.  There  they  do  not 
weep,  I  suppose  ! ' 

And  to  the  boat's  crew,  who  intended  to 
row  back  again  as  soon  as  the  two  had  landed, 
the  captain  said  that  they  might  go  up  to  the 
inn  and  be  treated  on  his  account,  but  they 
must  not  chatter  about  that  stupid  story  —  it 
would  get  afloat  soon  enough. 

The  crew,  led  by  the  cook,  who  had  taken 
an  oar  on  the  trip,  hesitated  a  little. 

'Well,  be  off  with  you,'  said  Captain  Spang. 

'Yes — excuse  us,  but  —  could  we  not  take 
the  boy  with  us  ? '  asked  the  cook,  as  he  winked 
at  Tonnes.  '  We  would  like  to  treat  him 
well.   .   .  .' 


72  N.-INNA 


'  Ry  making  him  cirur)k  in  the  morning,  eh  '  ' 
exclaimed  tJic  captain,  as  the  blood  shot  up 
intr>  his  head.  '  No,'  he  added,  in  a  gentler 
tone,  '  the  boy  goes  with  me.  Hut  yoii  may 
get  a  chance  to  see  him  again  when  he  l)ecomes 
a  sailf)r.  For  a  sailor  he  shall  be  ;  he  is  made 
for  it.  ' 

It  was  a  beautiful  autumn  nifjining,  with 
cool  breezes  over  the  sea,  and  with  strtjng 
colors  over  everything.  Th*-  beach  glittered, 
the  house  gables  shone  behind  the  sand-dikes  ; 
the  brig  lay  out  there  with  her  dark  hull,  as  if 
she  were  only  a  stone's  throw  away,  a/id  her 
sails,  spread  to  be  dried,  shone  against  the  blue 
air.  Many  an  autumn  morning  the  boy  had 
been  on  the  l)earh  in  sue  h  weather,  and  yet 
things  had  never  lo'Af d  to  hitn  jis  they  dirl  to- 
day. Here  was  he,  the  smith's  boy,  thf  boat- 
builder's  boy,  passing  along  tfi'-  deep  sandy 
rfjad  by  the  side  f;f  the  great  Captain  Spang, 
Now  and  then  they  were  accosted,  but  the  cap- 
tain answered  as  shortly  and  gruffly  as  possible. 
The   boy   felt,  more   tha/)    he   saw,   how   the 


w  sroii)'  OF  DANISH  i.orF.  73 


passcis-by  rcniaiiiccl  stamlin<2;,  or  tuincil  aroiiiui 
several  times  ami  slantl  after  the  two.  'I'hc 
distance  between  these  lisheinien  or  other  sim- 
ple (oiks  and  the  respected  captain  was  so  great 
that  no  tiMther  api)roach  or  ((uestions  could  be 
thought  ol. 

Hilt  TiHHies  saw  how  the  questions  hung 
upon  the  heavy  lips  or  peeped  out  through  all 
the  vvriiikUil  I've-corners.  The  folks  knew, 
of  course,  something,  and  ncnv  they  had  oeu- 
lai  ilemonstration  o\  it  in  seeing  these  two  re- 
turn together,  but  vvithi)ut  the  yawl. 

Phe  lio\  went  on  pondering  ujion  what  had 
taken  place.  Alter  all,  lu-  diii  not  think  he  had 
sa\  id  tin-  (.-.iptain's  lite  and  his  own  by  his  con- 
dui't  that  stoinu'  night.  lleie  on  this  strand 
these  questions  were  not  thought  ot  luuler  the 
form  of  savinsr  life.  The  whole  thina;  was  nat- 
ur.il,  ipiite  natural.  The  boy  had  been  in  the 
boat,  the  other  had  been  disabled,  the  boy  had 
done  the  woi  k  alone  ;  it  was  about  like  a  fish 
which  you  may  catch  and  let  go  again  ;  it  will 
swim. 


74  NANNA 


But  now  his  father,  the  smith  ? 

Tonnes'  self-esteem  sank.  On  the  whole, 
his  courage  fell  the  nearer  they  came  to  the 
red  house.  The  captain  did  not  open  his 
mouth.      Now  they  were  there. 

The  green  wicket,  the  humming-birds  and 
the  dogs  in  the  window, —  the  boy  paused  at 
this  moment,  as  he  thought  of  who  might  be 
sitting  inside  those  windows. 

'  Well,  come  on  ! '  sounded  the  captain's 
voice. 

And  at  the  same  moment  the  door  of  the 
house  was  opened,  a  short  dress  whirled  about 
a  pair  of  ankles,  two  arms  were  thrown  around 
the  captain's  neck,  and  Nanna  hung  upon  him 
and  co\ered  his  face  with  kisses,  and  sobbed 
and  cried  in  turn,  from  the  joy  and  the  anxiety 
she  had  endured. 

'  Well,  well,  well,  my  lass,  here  I  am  ;  quiet, 
quiet,  little  puss  .  .  .'  and  the  old  seaman's 
tears  blended  with  his  child's  as  he  snorted, 
whirled  his  head,  red  as  a  turkey,  and  carried 
the  slender  girl  in  his  arms  into  the  room. 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOVE  75 

Tonnes  remained  outside.  He  was  per- 
fectly overwhelmed  by  this  scene  ;  his  knees 
trembled  ;  he  would  gladly  have  run  away,  but 
could  not. 

Then  the  door  was  opened  again.  With 
swollen  eyes,  Nanna  stood  there  and  said  : 

'  Father  says  you  must  come  in  ! ' 

She  retreated,  and  he  followed  mechanically. 
She  looked  at  him  as  if  she  would  ask  how  it 
happened  that  he  came  there.  Tonnes  looked 
down  to  the  floor,  and  dropped  his  cap.  He 
wished  himself  a  hundred  miles  away. 

'  Well,  give  him  your  hand,  Nanna,'  said 
the  captain.  '  If  it  were  not  for  him,  I  should 
not  be  here  —  if  I  must  speak  the  truth  ! ' 

She  stretched  out  her  hand ;  he  extended 
his,  hesitatingly. 

'  Give  him  a  kiss  !  ' 

She  could  not  see  for  tears,  nor  Tonnes  for 
bashfulness.  They  bumped  their  foreheads 
against  each  other ;  the  old  man  laughed  — 
and  then  the  girl  skipped  like  a  kid  out  through 
the  door  into  the  kitchen,  whence  they  could 


76  NANNA 


hear  her  weeping  loudly,  with  broken  exclama- 
tions, in  her  aunt's  lap. 

Now  Captain  Spang  was  flustered.  But  he 
regained  his  self-possession  when  he  had  eased 
his  mind  by  an  unusually  long  and  heavy  oath, 
and  said : 

*  Sit  down,  boy,  sit  down.  We  shall  soon 
have  the  coffee  on  the  table.' 

Tonnes  took  up  his  cap,  and  stammered 
something  about  his  father. 

'  Yes,  you  are  right.  Give  me  my  cane, 
over  there  in  the  corner.  The  other  one  was 
left  in  the  yawl.  Really  it  was  a  better  one. 
That  cursed  leg  —  it  has  not  been  helped  much 
by  this  trip.  Stay  here  and  take  coffee  with 
the  women,  while  I  go  over  and  see  your 
father.' 

And  the  captain  left. 

Nanna  and  her  aunt  entered.  The  latter 
carried,  on  a  tray,  a  shining  polished  copper 
coffee-pot,  with  cups  and  cakes.  When  she 
had  placed  these  on  the  table,  she  thought  it 
proper,  in  the  presence  of  the  boy,  to  carry  her 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOVE  7  7 

blue  checkered  apron  once  more  to  her  eyes. 
Then,  with  shaking  hand,  she  poured  the  brown 
drink,  and  nodded  to  the  boy. 

Tonnes  sat  on  his  chair  at  the  window,  un- 
der the  humming-birds.  If  he  had  been  alone 
with  the  old  aunt,  he  would  —  he  felt  pretty 
sure  of  that  —  not  have  hesitated  to  take  plenty 
of  cake.  But  the  sight  of  Nanna  kept  him  in 
a  strange  excitement ;  he  did  not  know  why, 
but  he  had  not  the  least  bit  of  courage  to  be 
himself. 

Then  the  honest  old  woman  went  over  to 
the  boy,  took  his  head  between  her  hard  hands, 
and  muttered  something  over  him,  while  her 
hands  trembled.  When  Nanna  saw  this,  she 
in  her  turn  went  over  behind  Tonnes,  placed 
her  arm  about  his  neck,  and  laid  her  soft  cheek 
against  his  rough,  dishevelled  hair. 

Young  or  old,  high  or  low,  the  female  heart 
finds  always  its  natural  ways. 

Poor  Tonnes  at  that  moment  wished  that 
he  was  lying  where  the  captain's  bottles  wer-; 
— twenty  fathoms  under  the  sea.    At  the  same 


78  NANNA 


time,  he,  with  his  sixteen  years,  felt  that  there 
is  reserved  in  this  world  a  sweetness  for  young 
couraee,  and  that  this  sweetness  is  of  an  inde- 
scribable  character. 

'  Stop,  let  me  alone  ! '  groaned  the  boy.  He 
was  pretty  near  getting  tears  into  his  own  eyes ; 
and  then  they  took  him  over  to  the  sofa,  and 
Nanna  put  four  big  pieces  of  sugar  in  his  cup, 
and  placed  on  his  plate  such  a  mountain  of 
cakes  that  all  three  of  them  burst  into  laughter. 

The  laughter  made  things  easy.  And  now 
the  boy  was  obliged  to  talk.  It  was  a  good 
while  before  he  got  through  it  all ;  for  Nanna, 
who  was  sitting  in  front  of  him,  with  her  bare 
elbows  on  the  table  and  her  hands  in  her  light 
yellow  hair,  with  clear  attentive  eyes,  and  a 
mouth  which  was  surrounded  by  an  ever- 
changing  play  of  features,  interrupted  him  re- 
peatedly with  questions  and  comments,  while 
her  aunt  drank  her  coffee  with  many  sighs  and 
exclamations. 

It  was  a  little  difficult  for  Tonnes  to  pass 
lightly  enough  over  the  real  explanation  of  the 


A  STORT  OF  DANISH  LOVE  79 

whole  affair.  The  part  with  the  custom-house 
officer  was  easy  ;  it  seemed  to  be  considered 
as  a  matter  of  course  that  the  wine  should  be 
smuggled  to  land.  But  now  came  the  matter 
of  the  captain's  weakness.  Nanna  cast  down 
her  eyes,  and  a  shadow  fell  upon  the  childlike 
and  innocent  brow  ;  while  her  aunt  sighed  like 
the  wind  in  an  old  house.  The  supposition 
that  had  dawned  upon  Tonnes  was  thus  con- 
firmed :  the  good  Captain  Spang  had  a  weak- 
ness from  which  his  child  suffered.  But  how 
this  child  did  love  her  father  ! 

Tonnes  paused.  Involuntarily  he  made  a 
comparison  ;   he  thought  of  the  smithy. 

'  Go  on,  go  on  !  '  said  the  girl,  hastily. 
'  Father  grew  sleepy,  and  what  then  ?  ' 

At  last  the  story  was  finished.  Tonnes  put 
the  last  piece  of  cake  in  his  mouth,  and  looked 
down,  his  hand  resting  on  the  table.  Then  this 
hand  was  seized  and  pressed  between  two  hands 
much  smaller  and  softer ;  all  the  blood  rushed 
to  the  boy's  head,  but  now  he  had  no  longer 
a  longing  for  twenty  fathoms  of  water;   he 


8o  NANNA 


looked  up,  and  met  two  clear  eyes  :  yet  they 
did  not  look  into  his,  they  looked  past  him  out 
into  the  air,  far  out  upon  the  sea,  after  a  heavy 
old  man,  who  had  yielded  to  a  weakness  he- 
reditary on  this  coast,  and  was  within  a  hair's 
breadth  of  .  .  .  and  again  Tonnes'  hand  was 
pressed,  and  this  time  the  pressure  was  surely 
meant  for  him.  He  felt  convinced  of  it ;  a  pe- 
culiar embarrassment  told  him  so ;  he  dropped 
his  cofFee-cup  on  the  floor,  and  was  rebuked  by 
Nanna. 

They  gathered  up  the  broken  pieces,  and 
then  Tonnes  took  his  cap.  His  manner  grew 
serious. 

*  The  captain  stays  away  so  long,  I  am  afraid 
that  father  .   .   .' 

He  did  not  finish.  He  would  gladly  remain, 
but  he  could  not  conceal  from  himself  that 
according  to  all  probability  a  thunderstorm  was 
hanging  over  his  head,  and  he  felt  it  his  duty 
to  meet  it  half  way.  He  was  little  afraid  of 
the  possibility  of  a  reprimand  :  he  was,  indeed, 
most  afraid  of  meeting  his  father's  sorrow. 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOVE  8  I 

Nanna  would  not  listen  to  it.  He  ought 
to  remain  until  her  father  returned.  He  must ! 
She  had  such  a  commanding,  and  at  the  same 
time  flattering,  way  of  speaking.  He  laid  aside 
his  cap ;  the  aunt  went  out  to  her  chimney- 
corner.  And  now  all  the  magnificent  things 
which  the  room  contained  were  shown  him  — 
first  of  all,  those  in  the  window  j  next,  all  the 
things  from  abroad,  on  the  walls,  in  the  old 
bureau,  in  the  chest,  in  the  drawers,  and  other 
hiding-places.  Nanna  could  tell  stories  of 
them  all,  and  had  access  to  all,  with  or  with- 
out keys.  It  was  as  if  everything  in  the  house 
belonged  to  her  ;  and  yet  it  only  interested  her 
because  it  belonged  to  her  father  and  told  of 
him.  The  boy  felt  the  invisible  tie  between 
those  two.  The  girl  grew  thereby  in  his  es- 
teem ;  she  grew  older  than  himself;  and  yet 
she  was  only  a  little  girl,  who  at  any  moment 
might  resort  to  some  girlish  prank  or  rudeness. 
He  did  not  think  any  longer ;  he  gave  himself 
entirely  up  to  humming-birds,  clear  eyes,  sto- 
ries, quick  movements,  sea-charts,  nautical  im- 


82  IS! ANN  A 


plements, — and  then  suddenly  she  grew  serious 
and  pensive,  and  looked  at  Tonnes  with  moist 
glances,  and  took  his  hand.  From  his  school- 
days, he  had  had  only  incomplete  ideas  of  Para- 
dise. But  he  felt  convinced  that  if  he  should 
ever,  by  reason  of  special  good  deeds  done  in 
this  life,  come  to  such  a  place  after  death,  he 
would  find  there  a  blue  oil-painted  room,  with 
white  wainscoting,  humming-birds  and  china 
does  in  the  window,  charts  on  the  walls,  and  all 
through  the  room,  flitting  from  one  piece  of  fur- 
niture to  another,  a  half-grown  girl,  with  bare 
arms,  yellow  hair  hanging  down  her  back,  and 
two  clear  eyes  which  could  both  smile  and 
look  serious.  Such  a  little  girl  he  supposed 
was  what  they  called  an  angel ;  and  the  angel 
bore  Nanna's  name. 

Captain  Spang,  leaning  on  his  staff,  walked 
down  the  crooked  path  leading  around  the  out- 
skirts of  the  town,  to  the  smithy.  Perhaps  it 
was  his  foot  that  pained  him  ;  perhaps  he  hesi- 
tated for  other  reasons.    At  any  rate,  he  stood 


A  STORT  OF  DANISH  LOVE  83 


Still,  and  reflected  whether  he  should  go  straight 
through  the  yard  to  the  house,  or  around  the 
fence  to  the  smithy.  He  knew  there  was  usu- 
ally a  dog  in  the  yard  ;  he  did  not  hear  him, 
but  undoubtedly  he  was  there,  and  he  did  not 
care  to  have  his  arrival  announced  by  such  a 
cur,  perhaps  causing  people  to  look  out  at  him 
while  he  was  crossing  the  yard.  Of  course  he, 
Captain  Andreas  Spang,  could  stand  both  the 
dog's  barking  and  people  staring  at  him.  But 
to-day  he  was  a  little  sensitive  ;  the  reason  for 
his  coming  there  was  of  a  very  delicate  nature. 
He  went  around  the  fence,  and  paused  again. 
One  of  the  big  gates  leading  to  the  smithy  was 
thrown  open,  and  behind  this  the  captain  stood 
and  looked  into  the  smithy  through  the  partly 
open  door.  No  dog  barked  in  the  yard  ;  but 
inside  were  seated  two  silent  men  —  the  smith 
on  the  anvil,  with  naked  and  swarthy  arms 
crossed  over  his  breast,  and  old  Jacob  on  an 
overturned  bucket,  his  eyes  blinking  beneath 
the  visor  of  his  cap,  and  slowly  rubbing  his 
pointed  knees  with  his  skinny  hands. 


84  NANNA 


They  seemed  to  have  been  in  this  position 
for  some  time. 

The  smith  now  arose  and  looked  at  Jacob. 

The  old  Lookout  man  drew  his  head  be- 
tween his  shoulders  in  a  manner  even  more 
bird-like  than  usual,  before  this  glance,  extend- 
ing the  palms  of  his  hands  sideways,  as  though 
to  throw  off  responsibility. 

'  What  must  come,  will  come  ! '  Jacob  ven- 
tured to  remark. 

The  smith  sent  him  a  glance  from  his  dark 
eyes. 

'  Silence !  Who  says  that  this  should  come  ? 
Who  says  it  ? '  and  he  thundered  as  if  he  had 
long  been  waiting  to  get  air.  '  Who  says  that 
you  shall  sit  here  and  preach  ?  Nobody  can 
preach  the  boy  to  life  again.  Who  says  that 
the  boy  is  dead  ?  What  does  it  signify,  if  we 
have  found  some  fragments  of  a  yawl  ?  There 
are  many  such  yawls  in  this  region,  and  the 
boy  was  out  with  a  sailor.  Yes,  it  was  a  shame- 
ful thing  in  the  captain  to  entice  my  boy  away; 
but  that  stiff-necked  skipper  is  a  sailor  —  that 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOVE  85 

must  be  admitted.  And  a  sailor  always  lets 
some  vessel  pick  him  up  ;  he  does  not  take  to 
drowning  himself  because  he  is  driven  away 
from  land  by  a  storm,  else  the  fishermen  on 
this  coast  would  be  drowning  every  moment. 
I  think  the  boy  is  living  •,  he  shall  be,  must  be, 
living,  do  you  understand  ?  But  let  him  come 
here,  let  him  come  here,  I  say;  and  even  if 
he  come  in  the  pocket  of  that  stiff-necked 
Captain  Spang,  then   .   .   .' 

Here  the  smith  shook  his  fist,  and  kicked 
the  big  hammer  so  that  he  split  the  toe  of  his 
slipper. 

'  What  then  ?  if  I  may  ask.  Are  vou  crazy, 
man  ? ' 

The  captain's  heavy  figure  stood  in  the 
doorway.  He  had  heard  the  threats  that  were 
uttered,  and  he  was  himself  again. 

'Well,  God  be  praised!'  said  old  Jacob; 
but  nevertheless  he  moved  his  tub  back  against 
the  wall,  taking  all  possible  results  into  con- 
sideration. 

The  smith  surveyed  the  new-comer. 


86  NANNA 


His  bosom  heaved,  and  the  muscles  of  his 
face  twitched,  before  he  regained  command  of 
his  temper. 

He  said  ironically:  'The  eavesdropper  sel- 
dom hears  himself  called  pet  names.  But 
otherwise,  you  shall  have  thanks.  Captain 
Spang,  for  what  you  have  done.  That  is,  if 
you  have  not  come  home  without'  (here  the 
smith  gasped  for  the  word)  'without  my  boy!' 

It  was  a  moment  before  the  captain,  in  his 
turn,  could  speak.  All  his  blood  rushed  up 
into  his  head,  and  surged  in  his  cheeks  and 
under  his  eyelids.  He  stood  and  pressed  his 
staff  against  the  earthen  floor.  Old  Jacob 
almost  disappeared  beneath  the  visor  of  his 
cap.  The  smith  grew  pale,  and  looked  toward 
the  ground. 

'Well, then,'  he  muttered,  'speak, but  speak 
straight  out ;  come, out  with  it.  Captain  Spang ! 
Tonnes,  my  poor  boy,  is  dead  ? ' 

'Does  the  devil  ride  you, man  ?  Well,  come 
to  the  wind  ! '  cried  the  captain.     '  The  boy  is 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOVE  87 

safe  at  home  in  my  house.  Now  give  me 
your  fist.' 

The  captain's  eyes  were  moist.  The  smith, 
with  averted  face,  stretched  out  his  hand  re- 
luctantly.   Old  Jacob  arose.    The  smith  said  : 

'I  thank  you  for  having  brought  my  son 
back  again  ;  but  I  do  not  thank  you  for  hav- 
ing spoiled  him  !' 

'  Spoiled  him  !      Are  you  mad  ?' 

'We  can  never  make  a  craftsman  of  him, 
after  this  trip.' 

'No,  I  should  think  not;  and  what  is  more, 
I  shall  look  to  that.' 

'  Shall  you  ? ' 

'Yes.' 

The  two  men  gazed  into  each  other's  eyes. 
The  two  strongest  wills  and  stifFest  necks  of 
all  this  coast  were  measuring  each  other, 

'  Captain  Spang  ! '  began  old  Jacob.  '  Cap- 
tain Spang,  you  do  not  know  the  smith,  but  I 
do.      Take  it  coolly.      Take  it   .   .   .' 

'  Hold  your  tongue,  you  old  scarecrow  ! ' 


88  NANNA 


cried  the  captain  jovially,  and  laughing  as  he 
again  reached  out  for  the  smith's  black  hand  ; 
'  Now  I  will  tell  both  of  you  what  kind  of  a 
boy  you  have  been  keeping  shut  up  in  this 
sooty  coal-hole,  and  in  Master  Jonassen's 
sweat-box.      Listen!' 

And  Captain  Andreas  Spang  told  his  story. 

The  smith  was  again  seated  on  the  anvil. 
At  first  he  had  crossed  his  arms  as  before  ; 
but  by-and-by,  as  the  narrator  advanced  in  his 
uncolored  description,  he  let  first  the  under 
hand  fall,  and  then  both  hands  sank  down  and 
grasped  his  knees,  and  the  heels  of  his  slippers 
began  clapping  together,  and  his  trunk  and 
head  were  stretched  forward  as  he  listened, 
and  his  eyes  sparkled  under  their  brows,  until 
at  last,  at  the  close  of  the  story, he  drew  a  deep 
sigh,  a  sigh  of  paternal  pride,  and  muttered  as 
the  captain  finished : 

'Yes,  it  must  be  so  ! ' 

'Yes,  it  must,  I  swear!'  said  Jacob  Bunke. 

'It  is  quite  plain!'  exclaimed  Captain  Spang. 
'We  will  speak  of  that  again.      Now  I  will 


A  SrORy  OF  DANISH  LOFE  89 

send  the  boy  home  to  you,  and  then  I  must 
get  some  Hniment  for  my  leg,  or  I  shall  have 
to  hop  around  like  a  magpie  for  the  balance  of 
my  life — just  like  that  old  fellow  there;  and 
a  ship's  deck  is  a  bad  place  for  that.' 

The  captain  was  gone.  There  was  no  dog 
to  bark  at  him  as  he  crossed  the  yard.  Prus- 
sian had  only  the  day  before,  torn  himself 
loose  ;  restlessness  had  reigned  in  the  house, 
and  in  the  minds  of  all ;  and  this  restlessness 
had  communicated  itself  to  the  dog. 

Like  mothers,  and  people  in  love,  animals 
have  fine  instincts. 

The  smithy  was  closed.  The  smith  had 
intended  to  finish  a  job  ;  but  to-day,  like  yes- 
terday, there  was  no  real  power  in  his  work. 
Jacob  remained  at  the  house  with  him.  This 
morning,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  the  old 
Lookout  man  neglected  his  business. 

But  what  beautiful  and  quiet  weather  it  was! 

Yes,  the  weather  was  beautiful,  quiet,  au- 
tumn-clear,and  tempting,  this  forenoon.    The 


90  N^NN.rl 


two  voung  folks  in  the  captain's  house  had  felt 
this.  It  seemed  an  eternity  before  the  father 
returned  ;  and  at  last  Nanna,  to  satisfy  her 
own  as  well  as  Tonnes'  impatience  concern- 
ing the  result  in  the  smithy,  proposed  a  little 
walk  in  the  forest. 

The  boy  obeyed  blindly.  'What  is  to  be, 
will  be,'  he  said,  with  some  of  old  Jacob's 
philosophy.  Then  they  went  swiftly  around 
the  yillage,  toward  the  forest. 

How  quiet  it  was  here!  At  first  their  feet 
cracked  the  small  twi^s  on  the  dry  sandy  soil 
in  the  outskirts  ;  but  by-and-by,  as  they  got 
deeper  into  the  forest,  their  feet  found  moss 
and  soft  grass  to  tread  upon.  Then  they  took 
each  other's  hands,  and  walked  more  slowly. 
What  course  should  they  take  ?  They  fol- 
lowed a  narrow  path  leading  to  a  small  swamp 
surrounded  by  birches.  Nanna  was  the  first 
to  release  the  hand-clasp.  She  was  warm,  she 
said.  The  path  ran  close  by  the  swamp.  There 
was  no  water  in  it,  but  beautiful  fresh-green 
grass  in  small  tufts ;  the  birches  stood  scattered 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOVE  9 1 

around,  now  and  then  waxing  their  pendant 
leaves  as  if  the  trees  were  suddenly  stirred  bv 
some  remembrance.  The  two  threw  them- 
selves down  near  the  road,  and  looked  for  a 
while  upon  the  scene.  There  was  a  fragrance 
of  birch  and  of  the  forester's  hav.  Thev  in- 
haled the  odor  as  thev  stretched  themselves  on 
the  ground.  Thev  heard  one  of  the  forester's 
cows  browsing  at  a  little  distance  out  in  the 
swamp;  but  thev  could  not  see  her,  on  account 
of  the  alders  and  birches.  Thev  felt  the  sun 
shining  so  blessedlv  warm  straight  down  on 
them  through  the  trees,  thev  were  content 
where  thev  lav,  and  had  no  mind  to  move. 
They  heard  the  little  birds  warbling  far  away 
in  the  forest,  as  though  calling;  and  answerins; 
each  other;  and  when  the  birds  paused,  thev 
heard  the  flies  humming  and  buzzing  at  a  point 
a  little  distance  from  them  on  the  road,  where 
a  number  of  beetles  had  gathered. 

Thev  moved  away  a  little,  as  though  by  a 
silent  understanding.  But  when  they  lay  down 
again,  the  conversation  would  not  go  on. 


92  NANNA 


'  Listen  ! '  said  Nanna ,-  and  then  added, 
'  sing  something!' 

Tonnes  looked  up,  frightened. 

'  I  cannot  sing.' 

'Nonsense.  Everyone  can  sing.  Sing  some- 
thing,—  but  no  smith's  songs!' 

She  laughed,  and  looked  roguishly  at  him. 
Tonnes  grew  a  little  embarrassed ;  but  she  was 
not  to  be  put  off.  He  looked  around,  half  ris- 
ing and  leaning  on  his  hands  ;  and  when  he 
had  satisfied  himself  that  no  being  besides  the 
cow,  which  was  now  seen  out  in  the  swamp, 
could  hear  him,  and  possibly  criticise  him,  he 
sang,  only  half-aloud: 

'  Father  is  out  at  sea, 

Grandsire  chops  in  the  shed; 

Lullaby,  baby,  my  boy. 
Here  in  thy  cradle-bed. 

*  Rest  thee  now  on  thy  pillow. 
Rest,  till  thy  sleep  is  done  ; 
Mother  sits  at  her  spinning-wheel. 
But  all  the  others  are  gone. 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOVE  93 

'  Father  will  bring  thee  pebbles, 
Yellow,  and  blue,  and  gray; 
Grandsire  will  make  a  horse  for  thee. 
Then  thou  shalt  mount  and  away. 

*  Mother  can  bring  thee  nothing; 
She  stays  at  home  with  thee; 
She  can  only  sing  for  her  sailor-boy 
A  song  of  the  restless  sea.' 

'  But  that  is  a  cradle-song! '  said  Nanna. 

Tonnes  grew  red. 

'I  did  not  know  any  other.' 

'No,  it  is  not  good  for  anything,'  said  the 
girl.    'It  is  for  very  small  children  —  or  dolls.' 

'Now  you  must  sing.' 

'Well,  let  me  see.'  She  hesitated  for 
a  moment;  then  she  sat  up  with  feet  bent 
under  her  like  a  Turk,  and  smoothed  her 
dress  over  her  knees.      She   sang: 

♦There  were  eleven  gallant  suitors 
Who  rode  to  woo  a  maiden  fair; 
In  the  early  morn  they  had  made  them  ready. 
And  trimmed  their  beards  and  dressed  their  hair. 


94  NANNA 


Away!   away!  now  forth  we  ride 

To  win  the  maiden  for  our  bride; 

But  the  maiden  laughed  when  the  throng  she  spied: 

"Yes,  all  can  saddle,  but  few  can  ride." 

'There  were  eleven  gallant  suitors 

Who  spoke  to  her  of  their  bosoms'  pain; 

And  all  together  they  claimed  her  favor. 

And  turned,  and  bowed,  and  turned  them  again. 

"But  only  one  at  a  time  may  speak. 

And  only  singly  my  favor  seek." 

Then  the  suitors  suddenly  silent  grew: 

It  is  not  so  easy  a  maiden  to  woo. 

'There  were  eleven  gallant  suitors 

Who  stood  in  confusion  and  could  not  speak, 
Till  the  youngest  of  all  stepped  up  to  the  maiden: 

"Yes,  you  are  the  one  whom  I  came  to  seek." 
Then  he  drew  his  knife  from  the  sheath  at  his  waist. 
And  against  her  bosom  its  point  he  placed: 
But  the  maiden  laughed,  for  that  token  she  knew: 
"Yes,  him  will  I  have  for  my  lover  true."  ' 

'It    was    a    strange    song,'    said    Tonnes, 
scratching  his   head. 
She  laughed. 


A  STORT  OF  DANISH  LOVE  95 

'It  is  one  of  the  songs  that  father  sings. 
It  is  true,  he  says  that  I  must  not  always 
hear  him;  but  I  think  I  may  remember  this; 
indeed,  I  could  not  help  remembering  it! ' 

Tonnes  began  thinking.  At  home  in  the 
smithy  no  songs  were  heard;  at  most,  some 
fragment  of  an  old  soldier's  ballad  was  hummed. 
There  were  a  few  religious  songs  from  his  dear, 
quiet  mother's  time,  which  he  did  not  remem- 
ber perfectly,  and  which  were  much  too  slow 
for  him.  The  cradle-song  was  a  kind  of  con- 
traband piece,  which,  after  the  mother's  death, 
had  been  smuggled  in  by  the  girl  who  took 
care  of  him.  Once  it  had  been  sternly  forbid- 
den by  the  father.  Perhaps  it  was  for  this  rea- 
son that  the  son  kept  it  so  well  in  his  memory. 

No,  what  Nanna  sung  could  not  be  wrong; 
besides.  Captain  Spang  had  himself  taught 
her  the   song. 

'Well,  now  let  us  play  with  the  beetles.' 

It  was  Nanna  who  proposed  this. 

Tonnes  preferred  to  go  home.  Really, 
he  thought  it  high  time.     But  to  oppose  any- 


96  NANNA 


thing  which  Nanna  proposed  was  impossible. 
And  so  thev  began  playing  with  the  beetles. 
He  did  not  understand  the  game,  nor,  per- 
haps, did  he  find  it  so  very  amusing.  But 
Nanna  knew  it,  and  it  amused  her.  Each  took 
a  small  twig,  laid  it  across  the  road,  and  stopped 
the  beetles  which  came  crawling  lazily  to  and 
fro.  By-and-by  both  of  them  grew  alike  eager 
at  the  game  —  as  often  happens  when  the 
original  passion  of  one  party  has  a  stimulat- 
ing effect  upon  another. 

They  caught  two  fine,  large  beetles,  sepa- 
rated them  from  the  others,  and  sentenced  them 
to  grow  very  old,  and  with  their  twigs  they 
made  any  escape  for  them  impossible,  except 
bv  climbing;  over  each  others'  backs.  Nanna 
and  Tonnes  laughed  loudly  when  the  beetles 
tumbled  down  and  lay  helpless  on  their  backs, 
with  their  legs  sprawling  in  the  air.  Tonnes 
wanted  to  get  some  more.  He  thought  it  pos- 
sible to  bring  about  a  small  war  between  the 
lazy  insects,  just  as  between  the  boys  on  the 
beach,  if  they  only  took  sufficient  pains.    He 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOVE  97 

sprang  up,  and  in  doing  so  he  set  one  of  his 
heels  heavily  on  the  girl's  left  hand,  which  was 
stretched  out  flat  upon  the  gravel  of  the  road, 
while  the  other  one  held  the  twig. 

She  cried  out  with  pain.  Tonnes  quickly 
removed  his  foot,  and  stood  staring  at  her  in 
affright.  She  was  on  her  knees,  sobbing  very 
softly.  Tonnes  could  not  say  a  word.  Now 
she  thrust  the  wounded  hand  under  her  apron, 
rose  like  lightning  to  her  feet,  and  stood  be- 
fore him. 

'Clown!'  she  cried,  and  struck  him  with 
her  switch  across  the  face. 

He  retreated,  and  lifted  his  hand  to  his 
cheek.  He  let  his  twig  fall.  The  blood  rushed 
to  his  head.  He  tried  to  speak,  but  could  not. 
Then  he  turned  and  dashed  like  an  arrow 
through  the  forest. 

She  looked  after  him,  uncertainly.  What 
had  happened  ?  He  had  stepped  on  her  hand 
with  all  his  weight,  that  stupid,  awkward  boy 
—  that  smith's  boy.  Oh,  how  it  pained  her! 
Now  it  first  really  pained  her.     She  began 


98  NANNA 


weeping, and  looked  at  her  hand ;  and  the  more 
she  looked  at  the  red  swollen  fingers  scratched 
by  the  gravel  under  his  shoe,  the  more  she 
wept  and  the  more  angry  she  was  with  him. 
Her  tears  fell  on  the  injured  hand.     They 
cooled  at  first  but  heated  afterward.  With  her 
handkerchief  she  wiped  the  gravel  from  her 
fingers,  looked  around,  and  picked  a  handful 
of  wild  wood-sorrel,  moist  from  growing  in  the 
shade  under  the  dead  leaves,  and  no  doubt  use- 
ful for  such  a  purpose.     She  laid  the  sorrel  on 
the  hand,  tied  her  kerchief  around  it,  and  then 
at  last  looked  for  Tonnes.     He  was  not  to  be 
seen.    Well,  he  might  go,  the  foolish  Tonnes. 
She  was  alone.     There  was  no  one  even  to 
pity  her  •,  but  she  needed  no  one  to  pity  her. 
Yet  when  she  came  home  to  her  father  she 
would  sav  —  no,  she  would  not  say  anything. 
But  Tonnes  should  beg  her  pardon.    Certainly 
he  should  ! 

She  went  through  the  forest  in  the  direction 
he  had  taken.  He  had  a  good  start  of  her. 
She  was  provoked.     She  began  to  call,  loud, 


A  STORT  OF  DANISH  LOVE  99 

Still  louder.  Nobody  answered.  But  behind 
her,  in  the  opposite  direction,  she  heard  a  bark- 
ing far  away.  She  stopped.  Yes,  surely  it 
was  a  dog  barking.  Dogs  were  not  allowed 
to  come  into  the  forest,  she  knew;  and  she 
could  not  be  so  near  the  house  of  the  forester. 
She  cried  again,  more  loudly:  'Tonnes!  do 
you  hear.  Tonnes  ! '  and  then  a  dog  came  leap- 
ing through  the  bushes  behind  her.  She  turned 
around  quickly.      It  was  Prussian. 

He  showed  the  greatest  joy  at  meeting  her. 
He  sprang  upon  her,  so  that  she  had  to  guard 
her  wounded  hand  ;  he  laid  himself  down, 
peeped  up  at  her,  then  jumped  up,  poking  his 
muzzle  into  the  earth,  circled  around  her, 
snuffing,  and  seemed  to  be  looking  for  some- 
body in  her  company. 

He  had  grown  gaunt  and  lean  during  these 
days.  A  remnant  of  the  chain  still  hung  from 
his  collar.  Nanna  felt  sorry  for  him.  She 
called  him,  stroked  his  hard  head,  and  said, 
with  a  little  smile  :   '  Yes,  look  for  him  ! ' 

He  understood  her  very  well.      He  rushed 


I  oo  NANNA 


to  one  side  and  to  the  other,  and  darted  for- 
ward. Then  he  disappeared,  and  soon  was 
heard  barking.  She  ran  after  him.  He  was 
on  the  scent.     She  followed. 

To  run  oneself  into  a  heat  is  a  good  cure 
for  anger  and  irritation.  When  she  stopped 
to  breathe,  she  only  reflected  that  she  had 
struck  Tonnes,  who  had  heedlessly  stepped  on 
her  hand,  and  who  had  saved  her  father's  life. 
Now  Prussian  barked  more  furiously,  and 
rushed  ahead.  There,  behind  a  tree.  Tonnes 
was  standing.  The  dog  leaped  upon  him. 
Nanna  ran  thither.  Tonnes  tried  to  escape, 
but  she  threw  her  arms  around  his  neck  and 
said,  '  For  shame  !  Would  you  run  away 
from  me  ? ' 

With  arms  about  each  other,  the  two  half- 
grown  children  walked  through  the  forest, 
down  the  path  leading  to  the  smithy.  They 
did  not  talk  much ;  Tonnes  least.  When  they 
approached  the  smithy,  he  offered  to  release 
her,  but  she  held  him  fast.  The  dog  did  his 
best  to  entertain  them  with  his  capers.  Tonnes 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOFE  loi 

encouraged  him  with  exclamations,  possibly 
to  avoid  having  to  entertain  his  companion 
himself. 

On  the  step  outside  of  the  smith's  house 
the  smith  and  old  Jacob  were  standing.  With 
a  quite  unusual  want  of  respect  the  latter 
poked  the  silent  smith  in  the  side,  and  pointed 
toward  the  road  on  which  the  young  couple 
were  approaching. 

The  smith  opened  his  eyes  wide,  and 
something  like  a  smile  appeared  under  his 
swarthy  cap. 

'Take  your  elbow  away,'  he  said,  quickly, 
to  hide  his  own  self-forgetfulness.  Old  Jacob 
smirked,  and  dropped  his  arm. 

In  such  company,  and  in  the  beautiful 
quiet  weather,  Tonnes  appeared  beneath  his 
father's  roof. 


I02  NANNA 


IV. 

Time  passed.    Tonnes  had  been  out  on  his 
first  voyage  with  Captain  Spang. 

'The  trip  will  be  a  long  one,'  the  captain 
had  said. 

Then  Tonnes  had  been  confirmed,  and 
had  passed  the  winter  at  home  with  the 
captain,  studying  navigation. 

This  was  his  training-school;  for  the  next 
year,  when  he  had  been  on  one  trip  more, 
he  was  to  enter  the  real  school  at  the  capital. 
His  calculations  he  could  manage ;  but  what 
troubled  him  more  was  Nanna. 

When  he  had  returned  from  his  first  trip 
she  had  thrown  her  arms  around  his  neck  and 
kissed  him.  But  this  had  never  been  repeated. 
On  the  day  of  his  confirmation,  when  the 
captain  had  presented  him  with  a  telescope, 
his  father  with  a  silver  watch,  and  Nanna  with 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOVE  103 

a  hair  chain  for  the  watch,  —  on  the  very  day 
of  his  confirmation,  she  had  appeared  strangely 
shy  toward  him;  and  this  shyness  had  con- 
tinued all  through  the  winter,  while  she  went 
to  be  prepared  for  her  confirmation,  partly 
at  the  minister's,  and  partly,  to  avoid  the 
long  distance,  at  the  schoolmaster's.  Once  in 
a  while  the  child  would  suddenly  reappear  both 
in  Nanna  and  Tonnes;  they  would  begin  to 
play,  or  to  walk  a  short  distance  together, 
holding  each  other's  hands,  until  suddenly  she 
would  let  go  his  hand  and  turn  away  her  eyes; 
and  often  when  he  went  to  call  on  the  captain, 
and  had  seen  her  sitting  at  the  window,  she  had 
disappeared  when  he  entered  the  room,  and 
was  not  to  be  seen  again  while  he  stayed. 

Tonnes  tormented  himself  with  questions 
as  to  how  he  might  have  offended  her.  At  last 
the  family  pride  in  him  was  aroused ;  and  when 
she  treated  him  so,  he  would  treat  her  in  the 
same  way.  They  looked  sour  at  each  other; 
they  quarrelled ;  she  complained  to  her  father, 
— this  idol  to  whom  she  clung  with  an  affection 


1 04  NANNA 


that  increased  as  her  skirts  grew  longer  and 
her  awakening  instincts  showed  her  the  breach 
growing  between  her  and  her  playmate. 

The  old  man  would  laugh  or  pretend  to  be 
angry  at  her  complaints.  Sometimes  he  would 
knit  his  brows  and  scold  Tonnes ;  then  burst 
into  roaring  laughter,  and  exclaim,  while  he 
wiped  the  sweat  from  his  forehead : 

'Go  and  make  up,  you  two  babies!  I  am 
almost  tempted  to  believe  you  are  really  lovers, 
there  is  so  much  quarrelling  between  you.' 

Tonnes  did  not  really  understand  him ; 
neither  perhaps  did  Nanna.  But  she  always 
left  the  room  when  her  father  had  spoken 
to  her  in  that  way,  and  she  did  not  return 
very  quickly. 

At  last  it  grew  too  disagreeable  for  the  boy ; 
then  for  a  week  he  stayed  at  home,  in  the  com- 
pany of  his  silent  father  and  old  Jacob,  or  went 
beach-hunting  with  Prussian  in  the  boat.  The 
smith  had  reconciled  himself  to  his  son's  new 
calling,  and  had  grown  a  little  more  sociable 
with   him;    but  habit   is  second -nature,  and 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOVE  I  05 

neither  Jacob  nor  the  dog  could  permanently 
dispel  that  cloud  of  monotony  and  gloom  which 
for  so  many  years  had  hung  over  the  smith's 
sooty  roof,  and  had  almost  robbed  the  boy  of 
breath.  The  ship's-boy  was  often  oppressed 
by  recollections  of  the  days  of  the  smith's-boy. 
Sometimes  direct  appeals  were  made  to  him, 

*  You  are  drifting  lazily  around  here  ! ' 
snarled  the  smith.  '  You  might  help  me 
a  little!' 

Then  Tonnes  disappeared  with  Prussian, 
and  met  a  gloomy  reception  when  he  returned ; 
and  then  he  yearned  for  the  red  house  with 
the  green  door. 

Life  may  sometimes  be  difficult  even  for 
youth. 

At  last  the  winter  was  past. 

The  week  after  Easter  the  captain  was  to 
sail,  and  Tonnes  with  him.  But  first,  Nanna 
was  to  be  confirmed,  on  Palm  Sunday. 

What  a  sunshine  !  The  heavens  were  blue, 
cold  in  color,  but  fresh  and  pleasant  to  look, 
at,  with  small  white  cloudlets  drifting  before 


Io6  NANNA 


the  breeze.  The  birds  sang  in  the  naked 
branches  of  the  low  hedge  around  the  church- 
yard. Standing  about  among  the  graves,  with 
their  box  borders  and  the  crosses  fallen  or  still 
standing,  were  whispering  groups  of  young 
men  and  old  men,  waiting  for  the  appearance 
of  the  young  girls  who  had  been  confirmed. 
The  smith  had  come  in  his  best  suit  of  clothes, 
but  he  was  as  reserved  and  silent  as  ever.  Old 
Jacob  stood  beside  him ;  he  had  donned  a 
jacket  of  blue  cloth,  with  very  short  tails,  and 
two  shining  buttons  behind.  He  entertained 
the  smith  with  his  familiar  '  Oh,  yes,  certainly! 
Yes,  why  not?      Well,  well!' 

The  smith  now  and  then  looked  at  Tonnes. 
He  stood,  dressed  in  his  last  year's  confirmation 
suit,  with  some  comrades  near  the  gate.  The 
church  service  had  lasted  long:  now  at  last  it 
was  over  ;  the  people  felt  a  little  cold,  and 
rather  tired  from  standing  on  their  toes  so 
long;  and  outside,  where  the  sun  was  shin- 
ing, the  young  folks  were  already  whispering 
together.     Tonnes  was  silent. 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOVE  1 07 

The  smith  kept  his  eyes  on  him.  He  had 
reason  to  be  proud  of  his  son.  The  suit  of 
black  clothes  —  this  modern  uniform  for  bet- 
ter or  worse,  betraying  all  the  shortcomings 
of  a  bad  figure, —  well  suited  the  young  man's 
form.  He  had  some  of  the  slenderness  of 
youth,  although  he  had  already  begun  to  de- 
velop the  broad  shoulders  and  strong  hips  of 
manhood.  When  a  boy  works  at  blacksmith- 
ing,  but  not  for  too  many  years,  and  afterwards 
becomes  a  sailor  and  climbs  the  rigging,  then 
his  figure  will  be  a  fine  one  if  the  stock  hap- 
pens to  be  good. 

Tonnes,  however,  did  not  think  of  making 
comparisons  between  himself  and  his  com- 
rades. He  avoided  his  father's  glance,  and 
looked  steadily  at  the  small,  low  vestibule,  from 
which  the  old  women  were  already  pouring  out. 

Now  came  the  young  girls.  First  there  was 
a  widow  and  her  red-haired  daughter,  with 
tear-swollen  eyes  ;  then  one  couple  after  an- 
other, none  of  whom  had  much  interest  for 
Tonnes  5  and  at  last   .   .   . 


1 08  NANNA 


The  boy's  heart  beat  violently.  There 
came  the  heavy  captain,  flushed,  burly,  and 
broad,  holding  his  daughter  by  the  hand. 

Only  once  had  Tonnes  met  her  eyes  in  the 
church  ;  and  then  she  had  immediately  looked 
away.  And  here  also  she  went  by,  with  eyes 
downcast. 

Certainly  this  was  proper  enough.  And  yet 
he  had  hoped  that  she  would  notice  his  greet- 
ing. Now  she  had  passed.  In  the  black 
alpaca  dress,  with  her  light  hair  combed 
smoothly  over  the  forehead,  her  hymn-book 
and  handkerchief  in  her  hand,  she  had  looked 
very  lovely,  but  almost  like  a  stranger.  Was 
it  really  Nanna  ? 

Tonnes  stared  after  the  slender  girl,  who 
still  kept  her  head  bowed,  even  when  outside 
the  churchyard. 

In  passing,  the  captain  had  winked  with  one 
of  his  eyes,  and  nodded  very  briskly  to  Tonnes, 
with  an  expression  that  might  have  said:  *  Yes, 
here  we  are,  and  this  is  the  way  we  look!' 


A  STGRT  OF  DANi:SH  LOTE  1 09 

'  Well,  don't  you  want  to  go  home  ?  '  asked 
the  smith's  voice. 

Tonnes  started  from  his  meditation.  The 
churchyard  was  almost  empty.  The  smith  and 
Jacob  were  standing  at  the  gate. 

The  three  went  away  together.  Old  Jacob 
had  to  furnish  the  sociability. 

'  There  were  a  great  many  people  at  church 
to-day,'  he  remarked. 

'  Yes,'  answered  the  smith,  morosely. 

'And  many  nice  girls,  too.' 

'Why  do  you  talk  about  the  young  girls, 
you  old  spider?  '  snarled  the  smith. 

'  Well,  I  may  have  my  opinion,  I  suppose. 
Captain  Spang's  little  Nanna  has  grown  to  be 
really  a  nice  girl,'  ventured  old  Jacob. 

'Yes,  and  just  as  stiff-necked  as  her  father; 
it  is  nip  and  tuck  with  them ! '  interrupted  the 
smith,  quickening  his  steps  as  a  sign  that  the 
conversation  was  ended. 

They  reached  home.  Dinner  was  eaten 
amidst   the   same   oppressive  silence.     After 


1 1 0  NANNA 


dinner,  the  smith  took  the  Bible  down  from  the 
shelf  and  handed  it  to  Tonnes  to  read  aloud. 

Tonnes  took  the  book  and  began  reading 
at  the  first  convenient  place,  while  his  thoughts 
were  now  in  the  churchyard  and  now  in  the 
captain's  rooms. 

'What  is  it  you  say?'  interrupted  the 
smith's  voice.  '  Can't  you  read  the  book 
any  longer? ' 

Tonnes  had  made  a  mistake.  He  corrected 
himself,  and  continued. 

After  a  little  while  the  heavy  book  dropped 
from  his  hands. 

'  Is  the  boy  either  drunk  or  mad  ? '  exclaimed 
the  smith. 

'  No ! '  The  son  arose.  Old  Jacob  stopped 
him. 

Father  and  son  stood  facing  each  other 
with  knitted  brows  and  trembling  lips. 

Tonnes  recovered  himself. 

'You  can  read  yourself!'  he  said,  calmly 
placing  the  book  on  the  table.  'I  have  a 
headache.' 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOVE  III 

'A  headache!  '  muttered  the  smith.  'It  is 
something  new  for  boys  to  have  headaches.' 

'Well,  I  have  one,  and  I  am  going  out 
to  get  some  fresh  air,'  answered  Tonnes. 

'You  will  .  .  .  You  will?  Well,  you  have 
certainly  become  a  great  fellow  now,  really  a 
great  fellow ;  you  will  soon,  I  suppose,  become 
as  powerful  as  the  captain  himself — the  old 
rum-jug  !  If  he  can't  teach  you  anything  bet- 
ter on  board  his  vessel  than  to  be  forward  and 
quarrelsome  at  home,  then  he  might  just  as 
well  keep  you  for  good.  For  I  shall  find  no 
more  pleasure  in  your  company.' 

Tonnes  glanced  at  old  Jacob,  and  then 
turned  abruptly  around  and  went  into  his 
chamber. 

Jacob  let  the  smith  scold  on  a  little  while. 

'  You  are  too  hasty  with  the  boy  —  if  I  may 
give  my  opinion.  In  fact,  you  have  no  con- 
sideration for  him;  he  behaves  well  .   .  .' 

'  Hold  your  tongue ! '  said  the  smith. 

They  remained  a  while  in  silence.  Then 
the  smith  took  the  book  and  mumbled  through 


1 1  2  NANNA 


a  few  pages  of  it,  while  old  Jacob  smoked 
his   pipe. 

Just  then  Tonnes  passed  through  the  room. 

'Wait  a  moment!  '  said  the  smith. 

Tonnes  paused  and  looked  at  his  father. 
The  storm  had  drifted  by. 

'  Where  are  you  going  ?  '  asked  the  father. 

'I  ...  I  ...  I  am  going  to  Spang's,' 
he  said,  decidedly. 

'  Well,'  muttered  the  old  man.  But  he 
motioned  to  his  son  to  wait  a  little,  and 
arose  and  went  to  the  closet  in  the  corner, 
where  he  opened  a  drawer  and  seemed  to  be 
looking-  for  somethinp;. 

'Here  it  is!  You  may  give  this  to  the 
girl,'  he  said,  and  let  a  small  box  fall  into 
Tonnes'  outstretched  hand. 

Tonnes  looked  at  him  with  surprise.  But 
the  smith  motioned  him  to  go;  and  the  son 
went  away. 

He  could  not  restrain  himself  when  he  got 
outside,  Prussian  barked  in  his  kennel;  he 
silenced  the  dog,  and  opened  the  box.    Inside 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOVE  I13 


were  a  heart  and  an  anchor,  and  a  cross  of  red 
agate,  held  together  by  a  thin  gold  link  hang- 
ing from  a  silver  chain. 

This  had  belonged  to  his  mother  —  perhaps 
a  marriage  present  from  his  father. 

The  boy  grew  red  —  as  red  as  the  agate. 
Quickly  he  put  away  the  box,  and  went  on. 

Prussian  sent  a  longing  glance  after  him, 
but  Tonnes  did  not  look  back. 

Captain  Spang's  house  was  filled  with  guests. 
When  the  whole  family,  from  near  and  far, 
came  together  on  solemn  occasions,  it  was 
something  grand.  Almost  the  entire  well-to- 
do  portion  of  the  village  had  gathered  there. 

Every  room  was  in  use.  The  women  sat 
by  themselves,  talking  and  drinking  coffee  ; 
the  men  smoked  their  pipes,  drank  punch,  and 
told  stories.  Sometimes,  during  these,  a  bearded 
face  would  bend  forward  and  glance  into  the 
women's  room,  to  see  if  anyone  were  listening. 
But  the  women  were  too  much  engaged  by 
themselves.  Years  had  fled  since  they  last 
sat  together  as  comfortably  as  to-day.      The 


114  NANNA 


whole  town  needed  a  thorough  overhaulins : 
and  it  got  it. 

Tonnes  felt  dizzy  from  all  this  talking,  and 
from  the  strong  smell  of  punch  and  tobacco. 
Everywhere  he  was  in  somebody's  way;  and 
at  last  he  settled  down  in  a  corner,  from  whence 
he  could  see  the  captain's  flushed  face  in  the 
center  of  the  circle  of  other  faces  just  as  highly 
colored.  The  men  laughed,  knocked  on  the 
table,  laughed  again,  and  filled  the  room  with 
thicker  and  thicker  clouds  of  tobacco  ;  while 
the  different  boots  in  turn  pushed  the  spittoon 
hither  and  thither  in  the  circle,  as  the  pipes 
needed  to  be  relieved  of  ashes  and  their  smokers 
of  tobacco-juice. 

Tonnes  would  have  given,  he  knew  not 
what,  if  he  could  only  speak  two  words  to 
Nanna.  But  she  was  beleaguered  by  the  cof- 
fee sisters;  or  when  she  occasionally  seized  an 
opportunity  to  come  in  and  stroke  her  father's 
shoulder,  and  lay  her  own  delicately  tinted 
cheek  against  his  flushed  face,  then  Tonnes 


A  STORT  OF  DANISH  LOVE  II5 


lacked  the  courage  to  place  himself  in  her  way 
at  the  decisive  moment. 

But  this  courage  was  not  wanting  in  another 
young  man,  the  captain's  first  mate,  who,  with 
the  second  mate  and  some  of  the  crew,  had 
come  ashore  in  honor  of  the  day.  This  first 
mate  was  a  bold  curly-haired  fellow,  who  evi- 
dently did  not  allow  the  world  to  trouble  him 
much.  He  could  drink,  tell  stories,  manage 
his  pipe,  and  pay  compliments  to  the  skipper's 
nice  daughter,  all  at  the  same  time,  without 
ever  losing  his  balance. 

Tonnes  caught  all  these  compliments  from 
his  corner.  Really,  he  could  not  say  that  there 
was  anything  insulting  in  them,  but  he  was  so 
entirely  unacquainted  with  the  world  that  he 
felt  irritated  at  the  ease  of  the  other ;  it  dis- 
turbed him  that  Nanna  should  listen,  and  that 
the  old  man  did  not  close  his  mate's  mouth, 
instead  of  sitting  there  laughing  and  laughing 
and  filling  his  pipe. 

Tonnes'  blood  boiled.     He  was  too  modest 


1 1 6  NANNA 


to  expect  that  anybody  should  pay  any  atten- 
tion to  him  ;  he  only  wished  that  not  quite  so 
much  attention  was  paid  to  Nanna. 

And  yet  she  was  the  one  about  whom  every- 
thing revolved  to-day.  It  could  not  well  be 
otherwise. 

The  smith's  son  felt  faint  from  the  smoke, 
and  the  smell,  and  the  laughter,  and  the  talk- 
ing. He  arose  quietly  from  his  corner,  to 
leave.  At  that  moment  he  saw  Nanna  go 
from  the  other  room  out  into  the  kitchen.  He 
stole  out  through  the  green-painted  main  en- 
trance, ran  around  the  house,  and  went  in 
through  the  kitchen  door. 

His  heart  was  beating,  as  he  fumbled  in 
his  pocket  for  the  box. 

'Well,  is  it  you.  Tonnes?'  said  Nanna. 
She  was  looking  for  something  on  the  shclt 
over  the  kitchen  table. 

'I  would  like  to  give  you  something  ...  I 
mean  it  is  father  who  .  .  .  but  do  not  show 
it  to  anyone  to-day ! ' 

'What  is  it  ? '  asked  the  girl,  curiously. 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOVE  1 1  7 


'Well,  look  for  yourself!  ' 

He  opened  the  box. 

'Am  I  to  have  this?'  asked  she,  holding 
the  chain  up  before  her. 

'Yes! '  said  Tonnes,  beamingly. 

'It  is  lovely.  Thanks!  '  said  she,  pressing 
his  hand. 

He  pressed  hers  in  return,  and  looked  into 
her  eyes. 

'More  hot  water  for  the  punch!'  cried 
the  captain,  whose  head  was  in  the  door- 
way. 'The  devil!  I  believe  they  are  kissing 
each  other  .   .   .' 

Nanna  hastily  withdrew  her  hand,  and  bit 
her  lip. 

'  Yes,  I  am  coming,'  she  said.  But  the  joy- 
ous captain  was  already  gone  —  perhaps  amus- 
ing his  companions  with  this  kitchen  story. 

Tonnes  grew  blood-red. 

'Take  good  care  of  it! '  said  he,  pointing 
to  the  box. 

She  looked  at  him,  and  answered  coolly: 

'Yes;    I   will   take    care   of  what   I   like. 


I  1 8  NANNA 


But  what  did  you  come  out  here  into  the 
kitchen   for  ?  ' 

Tonnes  had  nothing  to  answer. 

'Well,  leave  me!  '  said  she,  with  that  little 
frown  which  he  remembered  so  well  from 
former  occasions. 

'  Go ! '  said  she,  a  little  more  gently.  '  I  must 
return  to  the  others.' 

Tonnes  laid  his  hand  on  the  latch.  He  was 
waiting  for  one  really  kind  word.  But  it  did 
not  come. 

'  You  are  going  in  to  your  mate,  I  suppose  ! ' 
said  he,  with  trembling  lips. 

'  For  shame,  Tonnes  ! ' 

'Yes,  go!  I  shall  not  .  .  .' and  he  jerked 
up  the  latch  and  stormed  out. 

'Tonnes! '  she  cried  after  him,  'Tonnes! 
listen,  listen ! ' 

He  heard  nothing.  He  ran,  he  knew  not 
whither,  —  along  the  beach,  through  the  sand, 
—  until  at  last  he  grew  tired.  Darkness  had 
set   in;    the   stars   were   lit.      He   saw  a   red 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOVE  II9 

glare  across  the  sea:  it  was  the  rising  moon. 
Then  he  went  back  home. 

The  smith  and  old  Jacob  were  sitting  in 
the  room,  with  a  candle  on  the  table,  smoking 
and  chatting. 

'What!  are  you  back  already?  '  asked  the 
smith,  a  little  surprised.  '  Do  you  come  away 
from  a  feast  at  the  captain's  so  early  ?  ' 

'There  were  so  many  people,  and  it  was 
so  warm,  and  there  was  so  much  tobacco 
smoke,  and  they  were  drinking  so  much,  and 
—  I  had  a  headache,'  said  the  son. 

He  went  into  his  chamber. 

The  smith  looked  at  old  Jacob. 

'The  devil  rides  that  boy;  he  is  perfectly 
crazy  to-day.  Is  it  possible  the  captain  has 
given  him  too   much  to  drink?    Then   ,   .   .' 

'No,  no!'  said  Jacob  in  a  decided  tone. 
'  He  walked  as  straight  as  a  candle.  No, 
it  is  probably  something  else.' 

'Well  —  well!  What  else  could  be  the 
matter  with  him  ?  ' 


I20  NANNA 


'Oh,'  said  old  Jacob.  'There  might  be 
.  .  .  ahem !  Well,  yes  .  .  .  you  see  noth- 
ing is  impossible  !  ' 

And  the  two  old  men  continued  smok- 
ing and  chatting,  while  the  smith  now  and 
then  threw  a  glance  towards  the  son's  cham- 
ber door. 

'  Well,  now  he  is  going  to  sleep,  I  suppose. 
Yes,  let  him  sleep.  I  wish  he  were  at  sea 
ao-ain,  since  it  must  be  so.' 

The  smith's  voice  was  soft  —  softer,  per- 
haps, than  the  son  himself  would  have  thought 
possible. 

Tonnes  intended  at  first  to  light  a  candle; 
but  he  changed  his  mind.  The  moon  had 
risen,  and  shone  in  through  the  little  win- 
dow. He  tried  to  collect  his  thoughts.  He 
lay  down  on  the  bed. 

That  stupid  lass,  and  the  mate,  and  the 
captain,  and  the  whole  crowd  over  in  that  red 
house !  What  did  he  care  for  all  of  them  ?  He 
was  but  a  smith's-boy  in  their  eyes.  But  he 
would  not  go  out  any  more  with  the  captain. 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOVE  121 

For  the  captain  had  laughed  at  him;  and  he 
would  never  speak  to  Nanna  again  for  hav- 
ing looked  at  him  in  such  a  way.  Oh,  he  knew 
perfectly  well  that  she  was  overbearing.  The 
smith  was  right;  but  Tonnes  would  go  on 
board  another  vessel,  an  East  Indiaman,  and 
stay  away  many,  many  years,  and  pass  his  ex- 
amination in  England,  and  come  home  a  cap- 
tain, and  then  he  would  not  look  at  Nanna  at 
all,  though  she  were  sitting  at  the  window. 
.  .  .  But  then  Nanna  would  have  grown 
older,  and  perhaps  be  married,  possibly  to  the 
mate.     .     .     . 

The  boy  felt  as  if  stabbed  through  the  heart. 
He  arose  and  looked  at  the  moonlight  on  the 
floor.      What  was  it  that  really  ailed  him  ? 

The  moonlight  could  give  no  answer.  No- 
body could  give  him  any  answer.  He  lay  down 
again,  and  dozed.  His  head  was  heavy.  Was 
he  sick.? 

If  so,  he  did  not  understand  his  sickness. 
No  country  lad  of  eighteen  can  do  that. 

He  fell  asleep,  and  dreamed  fitfully.     Then 


122  NANNA 


he  awoke,  feeling  cold.  No,  he  could  not 
possibly  undress  and  go  to  sleep.  He  arose, 
cautiously  opened  the  window,  jumped  out, 
closed  the  window  silently,  and  stole  around 
the  village,  by  the  brook. 

Tonnes  had  intended  to  walk  to  get  warm 
—  to  walk  far  away  from  his  own  thoughts. 
He  walked  rapidly  as  soon  as  he  had  got  a 
little  distance  from  the  smithy. 

He  stopped  at  the  small  bridge  that  crossed 
the  brook  and  led  to  the  inn-garden.  There 
were  lights  inside,  making  the  window-panes 
appear  in  ruddy  contrast  with  the  moonlight, 
which  lay  white  and  cold  upon  the  wall.  Sud- 
denly he  made  up  his  mind  to  go  in.  He 
longed  for  company, yet  did  not  stop  to  under- 
stand the  reason. 

About  the  large  round  table  in  the  centre  of 
the  room  were  seated  the  first  and  second 
mates,  with  some  of  the  crew,  and  a  number 
of  fishermen  from  the  town.  Evidently  the 
captain's  party  was  ended.  Captain  Spang 
liked  to  go  to  bed  early;  perhaps  he  had  a  spe- 


A  STORT  OF  DANISH  LOFE 


cial  reason  for  doing  so  now,  owing  to  the 
vigorous  manner  in  which  he  had  celebrated 
the  day. 

This  supposition  was  confirmed  by  the  first 
mate. 

'  The  old  man  was  so  drunk,'  he  was  just 
explaining  to  the  crew  when  Tonnes  entered, 
'•  that  at  last  he  could  n't  find  his  mouth  to  put 
his  pipe  in  it.' 

All  laughed. 

*  He  was  sitting  gouging  himself  with  his 
pipe,'  continued  the  speaker,  'as  though  he 
would  harpoon  his  own  nose,  or  rub  the  drow- 
siness out  of  his  eyes.  Then  we  got  hold  of 
him  and  stowed  him  away  in  his  hammock. 
We  know  him,  you  see.  But  little  Nanna,  the 
girl,  wept  bitterly.  One  would  think  she  had 
never  seen  the  old  man  half-seas-over  before.' 

Everyone  joined  in  the  laughter.  For  a  mo- 
ment Tonnes  was  sorry  that  he  had  come  in 
here.  But  now  they  had  seen  him;  and  he 
felt  somewhat  reassured  to  find  the  first  mate 
sitting  here  instead  of  over  at  the  captain's. 


124  NANNA 


'Well,  my  boy/  exclaimed  the  mate,  filling 
a  glass  from  the  big  bowl  on  the  table,  '  you 
are  going  to  catch  up  with  us  now.  That's 
good.  Too  many  women  spoil  one's  appetite. 
I  myself  would  have  been  glad  to  drift  away 
from  there  a  couple  of  hours  before,  if  I  could 
have  seen  a  chance;  but  I  had  to  keep  watch 
with  the  old  man.  In  a  week  or  so  we  shall 
be  under  sail,  and  then  we  shall  get  our  stom- 
aches  well  rid  of  all  we  now  pour  into  them. 
Your  health,  Tonnes!  You  kept  up  well  on 
our  last  trip.  .  .  .  But  what  kind  of  a  face 
is  it  you  show  to-night.'" 

Tonnes  emptied  his  glass.  He  had  roused 
himself  on  being  reminded  of  the  sea. 

'  Good!  Here's  another  glass  ;  drink  and 
be  glad,  and  the  devil  take  all  whims.  That 
is  the  sailor's  ABC,  and  't  is  all  my  cate- 
chism.' 

'  That  might  not  do  in  all  cases,'  ventured 
the  second  mate,  a  grave-looking  man  of  spare 
figure,  protruding  cheek-bones,  and  sharp  fea- 
tures.     He  was  sitting  with  an  accordeon  on 


A  STORT  OF  DANISH  LOFE  1 25 

his  lap,  from  which  he  now  and  then  dragged 
forth  a  long-drawn  note  or  a  single  sharp  creak. 

'Every  man  may  take  his  own  course!' an- 
swered the  first  mate,  unconcernedly  andgood- 
humoredly,  as  his  nature  was.  'Let  us  have 
a  song,  Esbensen  !' he  exclaimed, —  adding, 
with  a  threatening  gesture,  'but  no  graveyard 
hymns,  do  you  understand?  Something  lively 
and  gay,  like  a  polka-mazurka,  and  no  sighing 
for  dead  loves!' 

This  was  Esbensen's  weakness.  He  was 
always  singing  of  dead  loves. 

'Keep  your  nonsense  to  yourself!'  said  the 
second  mate,  morosely. 

'Stuff!'  cried  the  first  mate,  still  good- 
naturedly.  'Give  us  something  .  .  .  never 
mind  what!  Let  us  have  a  song;  1  will  call 
for  more  drink.' 

'I  think  we  can  do  very  well  with  what  we 
have,'  said  Esbensen,  quietly.  'And  you  could 
do  very  well  with  even  less.' 

'  Come  !  No  nonsense !  I  have  ordered 
the  drink.      Let  us  have  the  song.' 


126  NANNA 


The  accordeon  sent  forth  its  creaking  tones, 
while  the  group  about  the  table  listened  de- 
voutly to  the  song,  which  was  sung  with  great 
earnestness. 

'I  went  down  to  the  glittering  sea 

Whereon  I  was  to  sail; 
And  there  my  true  love  followed  me. 
As  it  may  never  fail. 
"0  best  beloved  of  my  heart. 

Let  me  go  with  you  o'er  the  main; 
For  if  from  you  I'm  forced  to  part, 
I  cannot  liv'e  from  pain." 

♦I  answered  her  with  phrases  rude. 

Although  my  heart  felt  sore; 
But  still  she  said,  in  pleasing  mood, 
"You  must  not  leave  me  more." 
So  out  we  sailed  across  the  blue. 

Borne  by  our  vessel  fair; 
Though  Captain's  orders,  well  we  knew. 

Would  not  allow  her  there. 

'But  when  the  English  Channel  past. 

The  raging  storms  set  in. 
She  cried:    "O  God!   I  see  at  last 
Thy  punishment  for  sin. 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOVE  127 

O  sweetheart,  lift  me  up  and  throw 
My  body  to  the  waters  white; 

For  if  with  you  I  further  go, 
I  sure  shall  die  from  fright!  " 

*My  cheek  grew  pallid  at  the  word; 

But  yet  I  could  not  bear 
To  throw  the  maiden  overboard. 

So  on  our  course  we  fare. 
The  ship  rose  o'er  the  billows'  crest. 

And  hurried  us  along; 
The  Captain  said:    "Full  well  I  guessed 

The  girl  would  work  us  wrong." 

'But  when  we  came  to  Lisbon  quay. 

Our  voyage  ended  quite. 
Under  a  shroud  my  sweetheart  lay, 

A  corpse  so  still  and  white. 
And  now  for  thee,  friend  of  my  heart, 

I  sorrow  evermore ; 
In  thy  sad  death  I  had  my  part. 

In  bearing  thee  from  shore.' 

'Is  n't  it  as   I   said  ? '  cried   the   first   mate. 

'He  is  always  mourning  for  some  dead  love.' 

'•  It  was  really  a  good  song,'  remarked  one  of 


128  NANNA 


the  crew,  who  was  still  sitting  and  beating  the 
measure  of  the  song  with  his  foot  on  the  floor. 
'Oh,  it  is  all  foolishness!'  cried  the  mate. 
*  There  is  no  sense  in  it.  A  girl  dying  from 
seasickness  —  bah! ' 

Then    they   began    discussing   quietly  the 
probabilities  of  the   matter.      Most  of  them 
thought  the  thing  might  possibly  happen.    The 
first  mate  thumped  on  the  table;   the  second 
mate  took  no  part  in  the  discussion,  but  occa- 
sionally drew  a  few  notes  from  his  instrument. 
'Never  mind  !'  cried  the  first  mate.    ''Tis 
no  true  sailor  song  ;   that   must  be  set  to  an 
entirely  difi^erent  tune.    A  true  sailor  does  not 
care  for  the  girls.     Let  them  go  to  the  devil  ! 
— let  them  stay  ashore  !   Thev  are  only  made 
to  harm  us,  I   tell  you!      Many  a  brave  boy 
has  been  spoiled  by  a  pair  of  eyes  that  after- 
ward only  laughed  at  him.      Let   them  go  to 
the  devil,  I  say.      If  we  are  going  to  capsize, 
then  let  us  capsize,  and  stay  with  our  vessel; 
but   let   the   women   stay  where  they  are.      I 
know  a  song  about  that. 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOVE  I2g 

'  Then  sing  your  song,  and  stop  your  crazy 
jabber  ! '  said  the  second  mate. 

The  first  mate  looked  as  though  he  would 
retort;  but  cries  were  heard:  'Sing,  sing!' 

The  mate  smiled,  filled  all  the  glasses,  wiped 
off  his  mouth,  and  asked  the  musician  if  he 
could  play  'The  Devil  and  His  Pumpstick.' 

'  I  do  not  play  such  heathenish  trash,'  an- 
swered the  other,  gruffly. 

The  first  mate  laughed. 

'You  need  n't  be  afraid.  There  are  many 
honest  songs  sung  to  monkey  tunes.  I  can 
get  along  well  enough  without  your  old  organ.' 

Then  he  sung: 

*  The  breeze  is  whistling  like  a  bird, — 

A  music-box  a-trilling; 
It  buzzes  as  its  wheels  are  stirred. 
And  the  mighty  bass  of  the  sea  is  heard. 

Its  lighter  pauses  filling. 
And  a  little  music-box  like  this 

(Holloa,  boys,  mark  my  word  !) 
Is  the  best  delight  of  the  sailor's  heart 

Which  he  can  have  on  board. 


1 30  NANNA 


*  We  cannot  take  the  woods  so  fair. 

Where  thrushes  and  finches  stay; 
The  woods  have  many  a  dangerous  snare. 
The  birds  have  many  a  battle  there. 

And  so  good-bye  we  say. 
Good-bye,  thou  forest  of  tuneful  songs  ; 

(Holloa,  boys,  mark  my  word  !  ) 
A  sailor's  song  from  the  heart  that  comes 

Refreshes  all  on  board. 

'I  know  there  is  one  who  sits  ashore. 

With  delicate  white  hands. 
Who  smiles  and  simpers  o'er  and  o'er ; 
But  let  me  never  be  merry  more. 

If  that  tune  I  can  understand. 
Oh,  a  little  music-box  like  this 

(Holloa,  boys,  mark  my  word  !) 
May  do  very  well  for  a  day  ashore. 

But  not  when  we  're  on  board. 

'Full  early  enough  will  come  the  day 
Of  our  gallant  vessel's  fate. 
When  we  shall  become  the  ocean's  prey; 
But  still  we  will  never  be  dragged  away 
On  land,  like  a  captive  skate. 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOVE  131 

And  so  good-bye  to  our  sweethearts  dear, 
(Holloa,  boys,  mark  my  word  ! ) 

Though  to  a  shipwreck  we  journey  on, 
Still  let  us  die  on  board.' 

Once  started,  they  went  on  singing.  One 
song  followed  another,  but  they  were  of  such 
a  character  that  Tonnes,  although  he  under- 
stood them,  did  not  take  any  special  pleasure 
in  listening.  He  arose,  and  went  away  as  soon 
as  he  could,  unnoticed. 

He  was  much  troubled.  What  was  it  they 
had  been  singing  about  ?  As  he  walked  in  the 
white  moonlight,  through  the  sand,  he  com- 
pared it  with  the  surging  waves  in  his  own  soul 
that  day.  He  began  to  suspect  the  existence 
of  something  which  he  had  hitherto  experienced 
only  as  the  blood  coursing  in  his  veins.  He 
went  near  the  captain's  house.  Deep  quiet 
reigned  there,  while  the  moon  peeped  down 
into  the  chimney  as  though  she  would  discover 
the  dreams  of  the  inmates. 

'  Is  she  sleeping  now  ?  Yes.  Does  she 
dream?      Possibly.      But  of  whom    .    .    .    V 


132  NANNA 


Tonnes  appeared  to  himself  like  a  thief, 
prowling  about  listening  and  exploring.  Sup- 
pose anyone  should  see  him  !  What  would 
be  thought  of  him  ? 

He  felt  down-hearted.  What  was  really 
the  trouble  with  him  ? 

Feeling  how  impossible  it  was  for  him  to 
understand  himself,  he  went  back,  making  a 
wide  detour  around  the  inn,  leaped  the  brook, 
and  returned  slowly  to  the  smithy,  feeling 
soothed  by  the  consciousness  that  he  was 
walking  alone,  and  that  nobody  could  ask 
him  any  questions. 

When  he  had  reached  the  fence  and  was 
stealing  quietly  toward  his  chamber  window, 
he  noticed  that  Prussian  was  on  the  point  of 
barking  at  him. 

He  whispered  the  dog's  name,  which  im- 
mediately changed  his  bark  into  a  low,  confi- 
dential whine,  as  though  he  would  say:  '  Is  it 
you  .''      Is  it  you  .'* ' 

As  the  dog  wagged  his  tail, his  chain  rattled. 
Tonnes  longed  for  and  needed  company.    He 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOVE  I  33 

walked  to  the  kennel  on  tip-toes,  and  stroked 
his  comrade's  head.  Prussian  returned  the 
demonstrations  of  affection.  He  fully  real- 
ized that  he  must  not  bark. 

'  No,  I  cannot  possibly  sleep  to-night,'  he 
said  to  himself,  as  he  loosened  the  dog's  chain. 

'Be  quiet,  Prussian!  You  may  go  with  me, 
but  be  quiet,  sir!' 

The  two  friends  strolled  away  together  — 
where  and  why,  one  had  not  much  more  idea 
than  the  other.  They  pursued  their  way  across 
the  sand  to  the  foot  of  the  bluff.  Tonnes 
climbed  up,  and  the  dog  leaped  after  him. 

Tonnes  seated  himself  upon  a  tree-root. 
The  doo;  crouched  in  front  of  him  and  laid  his 
head  on  his  lap.  Tonnes  took  the  faithful 
head  between  his  hands.  The  one  eye  which 
still  had  sight  noticed  how  the  two  eyes  of  his 
companion  lingered  with  a  strange  half-absent 
expression  upon  the  houses  down  on  the  sand, 
which,  in  the  blinding  moon-light,  seemed 
almost  floating  and  mingling  with  the  sea. 

Presently  Tonnes'  head  sank  down  toward 


134  NANNA 


the  dog.  His  breast  heaved  ;  his  hand  trem- 
bled. The  dog  uttered  a  low  half-inquiring 
whine,  as  though,  with  almost  human  intelli- 
o-ence,  he  would  ask  the  cause  of  his  friend's 
trouble. 

Tonnes  pressed  the  dog's  head  between  his 
hands.  At  that  moment  he  might  have  con- 
fided to  his  friend  that  he  suffered  from  the 
first  overpowering  effect  of  a  discovery  he  had 
just  made.  He  loved  the  daughter  of  Andreas 
Spang. 

It  must  be  so.  It  could  not  possibly  be 
otherwise.  How  young  and  inexperienced  is 
one  at  eighteen  years  !  Yet  even  then  the 
tides  of  passion  in  the  heart  toss  to  and  fro  in 
murmuring  streams, growing  ever  stronger  and 
stronger,  till  at  last  they  rise,  break  forth,  and 
cry:  '  It  is  so.  Thou  art  ours.  We  have  a 
hold  on  thee,  we  will  not  let  thee  go  ;  listen 
now  to  us;  we  cry  it  into  thine  ear — thou  lov- 
est,  lovest  for  the  first  time ;  thou  art  lost  if 
thy  love  fails  thee,  for  thou  lovest  like  the  race 
here  upon  this  coast — thy  race  and  hers,  dar- 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOf^E  135 

ing,  proud,  bound  to  a  passion  as  this  people 
to  their  strand,  as  the  strand  to  the  sea  which 
rolls  its  eternal  waves.' 

A  touch  can  set  adrift  an  unmoored  boat. 
The  mate's  song  had  given  the  shock;  Tonnes 
was  drifting  upon  the  sea  of  passion. 

He  groaned.  The  dog  began  to  whine. 
Alas  !  alas  !  the  animal  could  not  understand 
him.      Why  need  he  press  so  hard  ? 

Tonnes  sprang  to  his  feet. 

'Captain  !  Captain  !  '  he  exclaimed,  passing 
his  hand  over  his  forehead. 

So  he  stood  thus,  looking  across  the  moon- 
lit sea,  whose  waves  broke  against  the  sand. 
•Those  waves  should  serve  him  ;  by  them  he 
would  reach  her. 

Meanwhile  the  waves  were  breaking  within 
his  own  soul.  He  was  yet  so  young  ;  he  had 
never  before  struggled  against  that  current;  he 
almost  felt  afraid  to  think  how  deep  it  ran. 

And  over  strand  and  sea  sprang  the  vast 
arch  of  the  spring  night,  its  bright  orbs  glitter- 
ing like  innumerable  shining  points.      As  we 


136  NANNA 


Stand,  on  such  a  night  and  under  such  a  sky, 
in  long  and  lonely  contemplation,  we  seem  to 
hear  murmurs  of  sublimity  and  peace,  a  low 
and  soothing  melody,  stilling  the  tempest  of 
the  soul,  subduing  all  our  passion  and  disqui- 
etude, our  yearnings  and  our  hopes,  our  de- 
sires and  our  prayers  ;  the  murmur  of  a  won- 
drous, far-off  voice,  which  softly  whispers  : 
'  Patience! ' 

Then  Tonnes  and  Prussian  went  home  to 
sleep. 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOVE  137 


V. 

And  Nanna? 

When,  the  week  following,  her  father  and 
Tonnes  started  for  the  harbor  where  the  bark 
'Anna  Dorothea'  was  at  anchor,  she  went  into 
her  chamber  and  wept. 

It  seemed  to  her  that  she  was  weeping  for 
her  father.  But  had  he  not  often  left  her  for 
such  journeys  without  her  having  been  so 
deeply  moved  ?      Then  it  must  be    .     .     . 

'  For  Tonnes  ? '  she  asked  herself. 

He  had  looked  so  sad  the  day  after  the  scene 
in  the  kitchen  !  Then  she  had  called  to  him 
kindly,  and  asked  what  ailed  him  ;  to  which  he 
answered  only  by  a  silent  pressure  of  her  hand. 

Then  she  cried  'Oh!'  so  that  he  released 
it,  and  went  away  ;  and  thus  the  last  days  had 
passed  without  either  of  them  taking  much 
pleasure  in  the  company  of  the  other. 


138  NANNA 


The  last  day  they  had  spent  together  they 
met  at  old  Jacob's  house  on  the  bluff.  They 
sat  on  the  bench  outside  the  signal  station, 
both  in  silence. 

Then  Tonnes  had  suddenly  risen,  and  point- 
ing over  the  sea,  said  : 

'  I  shall  certainly  be  a  captain,  like  your 
father.' 

He  spoke  so  abruptly  that  she  could  not 
help  laughing. 

'  You  need  not  laugh  ! '  exclaimed  Tonnes. 

'  I  cannot  help  it.' 

'  Then  you  can  sit  here  and  laugh  alone  ! ' 

And  with  these  words  Tonnes  sprang 
away  down  the  path. 

He  had  indeed  been  strange  and  capricious. 

The  young  maiden  stood  weeping  in  her 
chamber,  leaning  her  elbows  on  her  small 
dressing-case.  But  people  did  not  weep  long 
at  a  time  here  on  this  coast.  She  soon  grew 
angry  with  herself,  and  wiped  the  tears  off  her 
cheeks.  Then  she  opened  the  upper  drawer 
of  her  bureau,  where  were  kept  the  little  pres- 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOFE  1 39 

ents  given  her  at  her  confirmation.  There  was 
also  a  small  red-covered  book,  with  the  title: 
'Journal  of  the  Bark  "Anna  Dorothea,"  Cap- 
tain Andreas  Spang,  on  a  Voyage  to  Cadiz 
and  the  West  Indies,  and  back  via  Leith.' 

The  characters  were  large  and  high,  and 
occasionally  jostled  each  other's  elbows  in 
their  eagerness  to  hurry  on.  But  Nanna  did 
not  observe  this. 

It  was  Tonnes'  diary  of  his  first  voyage. 
Captain  Spang,  who  himself  wrote  very  un- 
willingly, had  ordered  his  ship-boy  to  keep  this 
journal.  It  might  be  of  some  use  to  him  after- 
ward, he  said  ;  and  when  he  came  home  he 
made  his  daughter  a  present  of  the  little  book. 

Nanna  opened  it,  and  read.  But  soon  she 
grew  tired  of  the  monotony  of  these  reports  of 
weather  and  wind  and  the  daily  work  on  ship- 
board. She  was  unable  to  find  Tonnes  himself 
beneath  all  these  short  sailor  expressions,  with 
which  she  certainly  was  familiar,  but  which 
told  her  more  of  the  ship  than  of  the  boy. 
She  would   have  preferred  a  letter.      But  let- 


I40  NANNA 


ters  were  not  written  very  often  on  this  coast. 

She  pushed  the  book  back  into  its  place, 
and  took  out  the  box  Tonnes  had  given  her. 

She  held  in  her  hand  the  chain,  with  the 
three  small  agates.  She  remembered  the  ex- 
pression in  her  playmate's  eyes,  when  he,  half 
bashfully,  half  wistfully,  had  held  the  box  out 
toward  her. 

The  chain  grew  almost  warm  in  her  hand. 
She  put  it  quickly  around  her  neck,  noticing 
at  the  same  time  that  the  three  little  agates 
were  but  slightly  fastened  to  the  gold  spring 
and  might  easily  be  separated  from  the  chain. 
The  latter  was  sufficiently  strong;  she  tested 
it  by  pulling  it  so  that  it  left  a  red  circle  upon 
her  pretty  neck. 

She  had  some  white  silk  thread.  Silk,  she 
knew,  was  considered  very  strong.  She  tied, 
in  true  sailor  fashion,  the  emblems  of  Hope, 
Faith,  and  Love,  and  fastened  them  to  the  sil- 
ver chain,  finishing  with  a  solid  treble  knot. 
Then  she  knew  that  it  could  not  become  un- 
fastened. 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOVE  141 

After  that  day  she  always  wore  the  chain 
in  plain  sight  around  her  neck.  But  the  three 
small  agates  rested  where  no  curious  eye  could 
see  them  —  over  the  warm,  beating  heart 
of  the  young  maiden. 

And  so  the  summer  passed. 

Late  in  the  autumn  the  captain  came  home. 
Nanna  embraced  her  father  long  and  heartily; 
and  hiding  her  face  upon  his  breast,  asked : 

'Well,  —  and  Tonnes   .   .   .   ?' 

The  old  man  laughed,  and  took  her  in 
his  arms. 

'Do  you  long  for  him,  my  lass? ' 

'You  ought  not  to  ask  that,  but  only  to 
answer  my  question.' 

'Well,  Tonnes  went  at  once  to  the  city. 
He  will  stay  there  and  attend  school  till  he 
passes  his  examination.  He  would  not  come 
home  before  he  was  a  mate,  he  said;  and 
I  think  he  is  right.  For  here  you  two  only 
quarrel  .    .   .' 

She  laid  her  hand  on  his  mouth,  and 
his    words    were    choked    in    laughter.      But 


142  NANNA 


afterwards,  when  they  began  to  speak  soberly 
together,  he  could  not  get  anything  out  of 
the  girl. 

'Just  like  her  father  !  '  he  said,  looking  after 
her,  half  proudly,  half  dubiously.  'Oh,  yes! 
before  a  board  can  be  used  for  a  ship,  it  must 
go  through  the  steam-box,  and  be  fashioned 
into  shape.  Everything  in  this  world,  indeed, 
can  be  likened  to  a  vessel.' 

And  with  this  remark.  Captain  Andreas 
Spang  mixed  his  usual  evening  grog;  and 
the  grog  was   none  of  the   weakest. 

Time  ran  its  wonted  course  in  the  small 
town.  The  captain  soon  began  to  feel  rest- 
less, as  he  always  did  when  he  had  been  some 
time  at  home.  Besides,  this  time  he  had 
really  no  benefit  from  his  daughter's  company, 
although  she  was  grown  up  now,  and  could  not 
romp  about,  but  had  to  assist  her  aunt  in  the 
daily  housework.  It  was  naturally  to  be  sup- 
posed —  and  the  captain  did  suppose  it  —  that 
she  might  by  this  time  be  company  for  him. 
But  she  had  grown   moody  and   sile-nt;   she 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOVE  I43 

often  sat  with  her  cheek  upon  her  hand,  lean- 
ing her  elbow  on  the  window,  and  when  her 
father  spoke  to  her  she  answered  with  a  slight 
frown,  or  smiled  distractedly,  and  filled  his 
pipe  with  ashes  instead  of  tobacco. 

When,  after  the  second  glass  of  grog,  the 
captain  ventured  some  remonstrance,  she  arose 
and  playfully  laid  her  hand  on  his  mouth,  until 
he  begged  for  peace.  Certainly,  it  was  always 
nothing  but  joking  between  them.  But  some- 
times, when  he  had  got  the  third  glass  of  grog, 
he  became  too  blunt  in  his  hints  about  Tonnes ; 
and  then  the  young  girl  left  the  room. 

'  God  save  us  ! '  the  captain  often  said  to 
himself,  '  what  strange  creature;?  women  are  ! 
In  some  points  they  are  as  uncertain  as  a  cat- 
rigged  vessel  in  a  storm!  ' 

At  last  it  became  too  tiresome  for  the  good 
captain.  He  looked  for  company  outside  the 
house.  There  was  no  great  choice.  He  tried 
the  smithy. 

But  he  had  not  been  there  many  times 
before  he  felt  sure  that  plan  would  not  work. 


1 44  NANNA 


The  captain  could  speak  very  well  with  the 
smith  about  Tonnes;  but  to  this  topic  was 
their  conversation  limited.  Neither  of  them 
had  learned  in  the  great  cities  the  art  of  speak- 
ing of  everything  and  nothing.  Each  had  his 
special  interests,  but  added  together  these  were 
neither  many  nor  great.  Moreover,  the  smith 
took  strong  drink  in  only  a  very  moderate  de- 
gree; he  seldom  laughed — and  never  at  the 
stories  of  the  captain.  Nor  did  he  like  it  that 
his  guest  bantered  old  Jacob.  And  so,  very 
naturally,  these  visits  soon  ceased. 

Then  the  captain  got  another  companion. 

It  was  Prussian. 

It  happened  thus:  The  old  sailor  had  one 
day,  when  nobody  else  was  at  home  in  the 
smithy,  stopped  in  front  of  Prussian's  .dwell- 
ing, and  had  been  greatly  diverted  by  the  alert 
and  indefatigable  manner  in  which  the  dog  had 
shown  his  watchfulness  and  his  very  unsoci- 
able nature.  As  the  stout  captain  did  not  tire 
out,  the  dog  did.  Prussian  turned  his  stump- 
tail,  and,  growling  unamiablv,  crept  inside  his 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOVE  1 45 

kennei,where  he  turned  himself  around  several 
times,  and  at  last  lay  down,  his  head  flat  upon 
his  own  threshold, and  his  one  eye  fixed  watch- 
fully on  his  antagonist. 

Captain  Spang  could  make  his  voice  sound 
very  gentle  when  he  chose.  The  shyest  chil- 
dren were  won  by  it,  and  would  go  to  him. 
He  now  tried  its  effect  upon  the  dog.  It  was 
a  difficult  task,  but  at  last  he  succeeded.  The 
dog  came  out  from  his  kennel,  yawned,  winked 
with  his  single  eye,  and  presently  began  an 
amicable  wagging  of  his  tail. 

The  friendship  was  formed. 

Yet,  justice  demands  that  this  matter  should 
be  treated  a  little  more  explicitly,  less  the  epi- 
sode might  seem  to  show  an  unaccountable 
inconsistency  in  the  faithful  dog's  character. 
Since  the  night  when  Prussian  had  accom- 
panied his  young  master  to  the  forest,  a  cer- 
tain coolness  had  sprung  up  between  them. 
Tonnes,  during  his  last  week  at  home,  had 
been  so  absorbed  in  his  own  affairs  that  he  had 
openly  neglected   Prussian.      Under  this  im- 


146  NANNA 


pression,  on  the  part  of  the  dog,  that  he  had 
been  neglected,  the  master  had  left ;  and,  as 
we  know,  Prussian  usually  remembered  very 
well  and  very  long.  Doubtless,  in  his  loneli- 
ness he  had  made  his  own  conjectures,  and  had 
scarcely  reached  a  gratifying  result.  Man  was, 
and  remained,  a  very  ungrateful  creature. 

Later,  Nanna  had  paid  the  dog  occasional 
visits ;  but  she  had  proved  to  be  but  little  better 
company.  She  might  sit  stroking  his  head, 
and  then  suddenly  become  absorbed  in  her  own 
thoughts  ;  and  when  Prussian  tried  to  recall 
her  attention  to  his  presence  by  poking  her  a 
little  unceremoniously  with  his  nose,  the  girl 
responded  by  pulling  his  ears.  At  first  he 
thought  this  onlv  a  joke,  and  repeated  his  dem- 
onstration ;  but  he  soon  found  it  was  no  joke 
at  all,  and  then  their  friendship  broke. 

For  Prussian  was  proud,  and,  like  all  faith- 
ful characters,  rather  exacting.  He  would  not 
be  the  plaything  of  passing  humors;  he  would 
have  his  rights.  There  should  be  consistency 
and  sincerity  in  all  things.      He  had  become 


A  SrORT  OF  DANISH  LOFE  1 47 

embittered  by  all  these  deceptions.  How  could 
he  ever  reach  the  bottom  of  the  matter  ?  Be- 
sides, they  seemed  no  longer  to  have  confi- 
dence in  him.  How,  then,  could  a  dog  be  any- 
thing else  than  embittered  ?  When  two  love 
each  other,  a  third  must  often  suffer  by  it. 

It  was  just  at  this  juncture  that  the  meeting 
occurred  between  the  captain  and  the  dog. 

Soon  they  became  inseparable.  The  captain 
bought  the  dog  from  the  smith. 

It  had  been  difficult  to  bring  matters  so  far 
as  this.  But  the  old  sailor  was  obstinate  — 
and  so  was  the  dog,  which,  when  he  had  really 
understood  the  strength  of  his  feelings,  broke 
his  chain  so  often,  and  gave  so  much  trouble, 
that  at  last  the  smith  yielded.  After  that  time, 
little  intercourse  was  kept  up  between  the  two 
men ;  for  the  smith,  in  his  meditations, gloomy 
and  introspective  as  they  were,  accused  the 
captain  of  having  robbed  him  first  of  his  boy 
and  next  of  his  dog:  all  he  had  ever  loved. 

And  Nanna,  on  her  part,  had  also  ventured 
to  visit  the  smithy  ;  but,  like  her  father,  she 


148  NANNA 


had  become  satisfied  that  any  extended  inter- 
course was  impossible.  Tonnes'  father  had  at 
first  appeared  to  be  somewhat  thawed  by  the 
company  of  the  charming  and  handsome  girl; 
but  whenever,  by  direct  questionings  or  indi- 
rect allusions,  she  approached  the  subject  of 
the  son,  the  suspicion  and  pride  of  the  father 
at  once  awoke.  He  was  resolved  that  never 
should  it  be  said  that  he  had  by  word  or  deed 
encouraged  an  alliance  between  his  humble 
house  and  the  more  prosperous  one  of  Captain 
Spang.  Children  of  the  same  class  played  best 
together  ;  and  perhaps  —  who  could  say  ?  — 
when  at  last  his  son  came  to  propose,  he  might 
be  laughed  at  and  turned  away. 

Then  Nanna  ceased  to  visit  the  smithy. 
She  did  not  wait  for  any  final  outbreak  of  the 
smith's  ill-humor;  she  changed  the  course  of 
affairs  in  good  season  ;  and  one  day  she  re- 
turned home,  her  small  head  more  than  usually 
elevated,  and  her  pretty  lips  closed  more  firmly 
together.  She  went  into  her  chamber,  and 
stood  for  a  moment  in  reflection.     In  reality, 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOVE  149 


she  was  angry,  very  angry,  with  the  smith  ;  but 
perhaps  this  very  anger  toward  the  father  had 
contributed  not  a  little  to  the  revelation  of  her 
feelings  toward  the  son.  She  drew  out  the 
little  chain  and  looked  at  the  three  small  agates ; 
then  she  closed  her  eyes,  saw  Tonnes  stand 
before  her, —  and  felt  that  she  should  love  the 
smith's  son,  in  spite  of  all  the  smiths  in  the 
world. 

It  is  necessary,  in  this  life,  to  have  confi- 
dants ;  and  for  a  young  girl  quite  as  much  as 
for  a  young  man.  The  latter  may  sometimes 
lock  his  secrets  within  his  own  heart ;  a  young 
girl,  never. 

Nanna  had  no  bosom  friend.      She  did  not 

care  for  any  of  the  other  girls  of  her  age  in  the 

small  town.     Her  aunt,  she  thought,  wept  too 

easily.     Her  father  she  loved  so  much  that  she 

could  never  have  confided  her  secret  to  him  ; 

for  she  loved  him  almost  as  though  he  had 

been  a  great  child.      He  was  as  wax  in  her 

hands  ;  she  knew  all  his  weaknesses,  hid  them 
10 


1 50  NANNA 


from  the  sight  of  others,  and  readily  forgave 
them.  Such  a  feeling  is  rather  maternal  love 
than  filial.  But  to  such  a  man  no  one  con- 
fides the  first  budding  and  tender  secret  of  the 
heart :  it  can  suffer  dew  of  tears,  it  can  suffer 
moisture  from  rain  and  storm  and  adversity  — 
but  not  from  grog. 

Nanna  confided  her  secret  to  old  Jacob. 
When  or  how  it  had  come  about,  neither  of 
them  could  say.  Old  Jacob  understood  a  half- 
sung  song;  perhaps  he  had  himself  once  been 
young  —  although  it  certainly  was  a  long  time 
ago,  and  many  doubted  it.  However  that  may 
be,  he  was  a  good  listener,  unweariedly  answer- 
ing the  same  questions  over  and  over,  and  con- 
firming the  same  conjectures  ;  —  and  that  is 
really  all  that  lovers  want. 

The  young  girl  visited  him  as  often  as  was 
possible.  Perhaps  she  sought  forgiveness  from 
the  place,  the  signal-station,  and  the  bench  in 
front  of  it,  for  the  manner  in  which  she  had 
bantered  Tonnes  the  last  time  they  had  been 
there  together.    The  old  man  smoked  his  pipe, 


A  STORT  OF  DANISH  LOVE  151 

nodding,  while  the  young  girl  spoke  of  the 
father  at  home  and  of  Prussian,  who  had  been 
added  to  the  household  ;  of  the  smith,  and  ot 
the  long  winter ;  of  whatever  remarkable 
events  had  happened  during  the  week, —  and 
when  Tonnes  might  be  expected  home.  It 
always  ended  there. 

Nanna  knew  very  much  better  than  her 
friend  how  to  manoeuvre ;   for  she  was  a  girl. 

Winter  yet  lingered,  although  the  first  days 
of  April  had  come.  It  had  not  been  so  pro- 
tracted for  many  years ;  and  to  Nanna  it  had 
been  long,  very  long. 

To-day  the  sun  shone.  In  reality  it  should 
have  been  the  spring  sun  ;  but  his  rays  fell 
upon  remnants  of  snow-drifts  along  the  edge 
of  the  forest  and  under  the  bluff,  and  a  solid 
white  sheet  of  ice  stretched  several  hundred 
feet  out  into  the  bay.  Beyond,  the  open  sea 
was  blue  ;  it  looked  fresh  and  invitmg,  yet  few 
vessels  had  heeded  the  invitation. 

Old  Jacob  stood  inside  the  shanty,  with  the 
telescope  at  his  eye.      Nanna  was  sitting  be- 


152  NANNA 


side  him.    Soon  the  stove  became  red-hot,  and 
she  was  obliged  to  move  away  from  it. 

'  Will  this  winter  never  end  ? '  said  the 
pretty  girl»  with  a  half-thoughtful,  half-injured 
expression. 

Old  Jacob  smiled  slightly,  and  closed  the 
telescope. 

'  Young  people  are  always  so  impatient ! 
.  .  .  If  the  wind  should  shift  to  the  west — and 
surely  that  may  happen  easily  enough  —  then 
all  that  ice  will  disappear,  and  we  shall  have 
a  thaw  at  once,  and  big  buds  within  a  week.' 

'  I  hope  it  may  be  so  ! '  sighed  Nanna. 

Then  she  arose,  and  happened  to  glance  out 
through  the  small  window  which  faced  the 
path  leading  up  from  the  bluff. 

'  What 's  the  matter  ? '  asked  Jacob. 

She  had  stepped  back  from  the  window,  her 
color  changing  to  a  deep  red.  Then  she  made 
a  movement,  first  as  if  she  would  run  into  the 
closet  where  Jacob  kept  his  bedding  and  pro- 
visions, and  next  as  if  she  would  escape  through 
the  door. 


A  STORr  OF  DANISH  LOFE  I  53 


But  in  the  doorway  there  aheady  stood  a 
straight,  broad-shouldered  fellow,  his  face  ruddy 
from  a  quick  run  in  the  sharp  air. 

'  Tonnes  !  no  —  surely  ! '  exclaimed  old 
Jacob. 

Tonnes  pressed  Jacob's  hand,  and  turned 
toward  Nanna.  She  had  quite  lost  her  com- 
posure. He  noticed  this,  and  immediately  be- 
gan talking  rapidly  and  volubly  about  himself. 
Presently  he  drew  from  the  inside  of  his  blue 
cloth  jacket  a  pocket-book  and  took  from  it  a 
paper,  which  he  handed  to  Nanna. 

'  Here  is  my  examination  certificate  —  both 
in  longitude  and  latitude.  My  commission  as 
mate  I  shall  get  after  one  voyage  more.  But 
this  certificate  is  the  most  important.  I  stood 
first  among  all  the  candidates.' 

'  It  could  n't  be  otherwise  ! '  declared  Jacob, 
with  emphasis. 

And  in  truth,  Tonnes  looked  extremely 
well ;  besides,  happiness  makes  one  doubly 
beautiful.  His  manner  had  grown  somewhat 
confident   and    manly ;    but    the   more   silent 


154  NANNA 


Nanna  kept,  and  the  more  she  seemed  to  ques- 
tion him  with  her  glances,  the  more  unsteady 
and  v/andering  grew  the  young  man's  gaze. 
At  last  he  became  quite  silent.  He  felt  like 
the  Tonnes  of  last  year. 

'  I  am  afraid  I  disturb  you,'  said  old  Jacob, 
preparing  to  leave  them. 

*  No,  stay  ! '  cried  Nanna,  following  him. 
'  It  is  too  warm  here,'  added  she,  blushingly, 
to  Tonnes. 

'  Yes,  I  think  so,  too  ! '  said  the  young  mate. 

If  it  was  warm  inside,  it  was  cold  enough 
outside  on  the  bench,  although  the  sun  was 
shining  there. 

'  Come,  let  us  go  home  ! '  said  Nanna. 

She  nodded  a  good-bye  to  Jacob,  and  hur- 
ried down  the  path  in  advance  of  Tonnes. 

He  followed  her.  The  sand  hindered  their 
speed,  and  they  walked  side  by  side. 

*  I  thought  we  were  to  go  through  the  for- 
est,' said  Tonnes. 

'  No  ! ' 

*•  Have  you  been  thinking  of  me,  Nanna, 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOFE  155 

since  I  went  away  ? '  continued  he,  in  subdued 
tones. 

She  made  no  answer. 

'  Let  me  take  your  hand  ! '  said  he. 

As  he  held  it,  it  trembled  within  his  own  — 
or  perhaps  it  was  his  own  which  was  unsteady. 

She  looked  up  at  him. 

He  withdrew  his  eyes  ;  then  he  stopped  and 
gazed  into  her  face. 

She  trembled. 

'  You  must  not  look  at  me  in  that  way. 
Tonnes  ! ' 

He  obeyed  her :  he  was  still  under  the  in- 
fluence of  the  old  habit. 

'  Tonnes,'  asked  she,  after  walking  in  silence 
for  a  while, '  what  are  we  going  to  do  this  after- 
noon ? ' 

She  wished  to  try  her  power  again ;  she  was 
herself  once  more. 

He  answered  lightly,  and  somewhat  at  ran- 
dom. 

She  smiled.  He  noticed  it,  colored,  and 
became  silent. 


156  NANNA 


'  Tonnes,'  said  she,  '  shall  we  meet  again 
this  afternoon,  at  old  Jacob's  place,  or  —  or, 
perhaps,  down  at  the  beach  ?  It  is  so  tire- 
some at  home,'  added  she,  quickly. 

For  an  answer  he  pressed  her  hand. 

'  Ah,  let  me  go ! '  cried  she.  '  Can  you  catch 
me?' 

She  flew  along  the  sand,  jumping  over  the 
stones  and  snow-dritts,  and  was  soon  far  ahead. 

He  had  lost  some  of  his  old  power  of  run- 
ning on  the  sand.  She  stopped  and  turned 
around  laughing. 

He  came  up  at  full  speed,  threw  his  arms 
around  her,  and  lifted  her  high  into  the  air. 

'  Do  n't ! '  cried  she,  earnestly.  '  I  shall  be 
angry.      Some  one  might  see  us.' 

He  put  her  down,  perplexed.  Her  last  re- 
mark struck  him;  evidently  he  had  not  thought 
of  that  possibility. 

'  May  I  not  even  hold  your  hand  ? '  asked  he. 

'  No'l ' 

They  went  along  together  in  silence  to  the 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOVE  I  57 


village.  At  the  outskirts,  she  offered  him  her 
hand. 

*  I  must  go  home,'  said  she  ;  '  let  us  separate 
here  ! ' 

He  pressed  her  hand  ;  she  returned  the  pres- 
sure, looking  straight  into  his  eyes. 

'  Good-bye  ! '  said  she.  '  We  shall  see  each 
other  again  ' ' 

Later  in  the  afternoon,  they  met  upon  the 
strand  below  old  Jacob's  hut.  Tonnes  had 
gone  thither  along  the  beach  -,  but  Nanna  had 
walked  through  the  forest. 

'What  shall  we  do  now  ? '  asked  Tonnes. 

'  Let  us  walk  a  little  farther  away,'  said  the 
young  girl ;  '  old  Jacob  is  so  inquisitive.' 

'  Well,  there  is  no  harm  if  he  is,'  said 
Tonnes. 

'  No,  but   .   .   .  can 't  we  go  out  on  the  ice  ? ' 

'  Yes,  if  you  like.    May  I  take  your  hand  ? ' 

'  Yes  ! ' 

They  went  out  on  the  ice  together.  Ice 
always    makes    people    feel   youthtul.      They 


158  NANNA 


amused  themselves  as  much  as  possible,  slid- 
ing, pulling,  and  pushing  each  other,  as  though 
they  were  really  children. 

They  ventured  far  out ;  they  knew  the  ice 
was  strong  enough  ;  they  aimed  to  reach  the 
open  water,  where  some  sea-mews  and  black 
crows  struggled  against  the  wind,  which  blew 
over  the  dreary  waste. 

The  wind  really  blew  from  a  new  direction. 
It  now  came  whistling  out  from  the  forest, 
covering  the  sky  with  clouds  which  indicated 
a  coming  thaw. 

*  How  clou'ly  it  is  getting ! '  exclaimed 
Nanna  ;  '  listen  !  how  the  ice  cracks  !  It  is  so 
pleasant !  this  dreary  winter  is  going  away  just 
as  vou  are  coming  home.' 

'  Yes,'  said  Tonnes, '  this  time  I  am  bring- 
ing all  good  things  home  with  me.  But  for 
whose  sake  ? ' 

He  pressed  the  young  and  slender  girl  within 
his  arms. 

'  Let  me  kiss  you  ! '  whispered  he  through 
the  wind.    '  You  used  to  kiss  ine  in  old  times.' 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOVE  I  59 

'  In  old  times  ? '  laughed  Nanna,  trying  to 
escape  from  him.  *■  Yes,  but  it  was  different 
then  ! ' 

She  grev/  serious. 

*■  No,  Tonnes,  you  must  be  quiet.  You 
would  n't  make  me  angry  would  you  ?  .  .  . 
Look  there  ! '  and  she  pointed  toward  the  rim 
of  the  ice,  where  at  that  moment  a  seal  ap- 
peared, as  if  to  find  out  the  meaning  of  all  this 
gale  and  cracking  of  the  ice. 

Tonnes  was  a  hunter.  Scarcely  did  he  see 
the  seal  before  he  grasped  Nanna  by  the  arm. 

'Be  quiet!  Stay  here,  but  don't  move. 
Watch  him  while  I  hurry  after  the  gun.' 

*■  What  !  will  you  run  home,  that  long  dis- 
tance ! ' 

'  Certainly  ;  I  will  be  back  quickly  ;  only 
watch  him  ! ' 

Unheeding  her  answer,  he  sprang  toward 
the  shore.  To  reach  the  solid  ground  he  was 
obliged  to  jump  over  a  large  fissure  in  the  ice. 
He  did  not  mind  it.  He  only  beckoned  to  her 
to  stay  where  she  was,  and  she  signalled  back 


l6o  NANNA 


that  she  certainly  would  watch  ;  and  then  he 
hurried  along  the  beach.  This  time  he  was 
as  quick  as  Nanna  had  been  in  the  forenoon. 

He  reached  home,  breathless. 

'  The  gun  ! '  cried  he.  '  The  beach-gun  ! 
There  is  a  seal  ! ' 

The  smith  was  a  little  displeased  by  his 
eagerness.  But  all  the  inhabitants  of  this  coast 
were  hunters,  the  smith  not  least. 

*  You  must  first  draw  out  the  old  charge,' 
said  the  smith,  handing  down  the  heavy  gun. 

'  I  have  n't  time  ! '  answered  Tonnes. 

*  Nonsense  ;  the  shot  has  grown  fast  in  the 
barrel  long  ago,  and  you  must  not  meet  with 
any  accident  for  the  sake  of  a  seal.  He  will 
wait  for  you.' 

*  Yes,  but  .   .   .' 

'  No  but  I  Come  here  ! ' 

Ten  minutes  passed  ;  and  so  half  an  hour 
might  have  passed,  before  Tonnes,  with  the 
big  gun  in  his  hand,  came  running  through  the 
heavy  sand  of  the  beach.     The  storm  roared. 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOVE  l6l 


Tonnes  felt  his  heart  sink  within  him  ;  it 
seemed  to  him  that  the  figure  away  out  there 
on  the  ice  had  become  so  alarmingly  small. 
Running  at  full  speed,  he  glanced  toward  the 
edge  of  the  water,  and  uttered  a  loud  cry. 

The  ice  was  drifting  ! 

He  hurried  on  until  he  reached  the  place, 
beyond  the  signal-station,  where  he  and  Nanna 
had  walked  out  on  the  ice.  The  rift  nearest 
the  land  had  widened  ;  yet  he  might  still,  by  his 
utmost  effort,  clear  it  with  a  leap.  But  some 
hundred  feet  beyond  him  there  was  a  large 
open  belt  of  water  ;  and  upon  the  floating  ice, 
on  the  farther  side  of  the  belt,  Nanna  was 
drifting  out  to  sea. 

He  saw  how  she  beckoned  and  beckoned. 
He  cried  out  to  her.  He  could  not  hear  her 
voice;  the  wind  carried  it  away.  He  stood 
as  if  turned  to  stone. 

But  it  was  only  for  a  moment.  With  a  tre- 
mendous leap  he  sprang  over  the  first  gap,  and 
hastened  across  the  ice.      Now  he  could  see 


1 62  NANNA 


Nanna's  features.  She  was  pale  as  death,  and 
crouched  down  in  order  to  offer  least  resistance 
to  the  gale. 

Tonnes  stood  at  the  open  channel.  It 
might  be  about  forty  yards  to  swim.  He  drew 
a  deep  breath,  lifted  the  heavy  gun  over  his 
head,  and  fired  it  as  a  signal  for  the  old  watch- 
man. Then  he  threw  off  his  jacket  and  boots, 
and  plunged  like  a  Newfoundland  dog  into  the 
icy  water. 

Nanna  had  hurried  to  the  edge  of  the  ice. 
She  knelt  down  to  assist  him  in  his  efforts  to 
climb  the  brittle  rim. 

*■  Poor  Tonnes  !  —  dear  Tonnes  !  I  knew 
you  would  come  ! ' 

He  was  on  his  knees  at  her  side ;  he  strug- 
gled to  speak,  but  could  not  make  the  words 
pass  his  lips.  He  pressed  her  in  his  wet  arms, 
and  presently  uttered,  in  a  hoarse  voice,  three 
words  : 

'  I  love  you  ! ' 

A  few  hours  later,  when  the  twilight  threat- 
ened to  extinguish  the  last  hope  of  rescue,  the 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOVE  163 


two  lovers,  still  sitting  close  together  on  the 
drifting  ice,  heard  a  cry  : 

'  Ahoy  there  !      Are  you  still  alive  ? ' 

It  w^as  old  Jacob's  voice.  He  sat  in  the 
prow  of  the  fishing-boat,  bringing  help. 

It  was  never  quite  clear  how  the  old  watch- 
man, with  only  his  one  leg  and  a  half,  had 
managed  in  so  short  a  time  to  reach  the  fish- 
ermen of  the  town  and  get  their  boat  launched. 
But  old  Jacob  only  coughed,  and  explained 
that  love  lends  strength. 

*  One  hour  more,  and  you  had  never  made 
a  pair,  children  !  '  remarked  the  captain,  trying 
to  hide  his  emotion  in  his  fourth  glass  of  grog. 

'  But  we  were  indeed  a  pair,'  said  Tonnes, 
quietly,  with  Nanna's  hand  in  his. 


164  NANNA 


VI. 

The  '  Anna  Dorthea,'  in  the  North  Sea,  was 
pounding  along  under  shortened  sail.  The 
weather  was  thick,  the  air  dense  ;  there  was  a 
falling  barometer. 

It  had  been  a  short  trip  this  time.  Leroy 
&  Sons,  wine  merchants  of  Havre,  had  made 
better  offers  than  the  old  houses  in  Bordeaux. 
At  each  one  of  his  later  trips.  Captain  Spang 
had  said  it  should  be  his  last.  He  would  '  lay 
up '  at  home  ;  he  was  growing  too  stout  and 
clumsy  for  the  sea,  and  now  he  could  trust 
fully  to  Tonnes,  his  first  mate.  The  captain's 
big  broad  face  was  flushed  as  usual ;  he  always 
looked  as  if  he  were  illuminated  by  a  setting 
October  sun  ;  there  was  no  change  here  — 
rather,  the  sunset  tint  was  stronger.  But 
Tonnes  noted  how  the  features,  which  he  knew 
both  in  moments  of  simple  good-nature  and 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOVE  165 


of  sullen  tumult,  had  gradually  relaxed.  He 
thought  that  it  would  indeed  soon  be  time  for 
his  old  skipper  to  '  lay  up ';  y^t  perhaps  a  few 
trips  might  still  be  made. 

'  Holloa,  Tonnes  !  let  her  go  about  before 
the  next  squall  strikes  her.  She  lies  too  dead 
on  this  bow.' 

The  skipper  had  raised  his  head  above  the 
cabin  stairs.  As  usual,  he  was  in  his  shirt- 
sleeves, and  his  scanty  hair  fluttered  in  the 
wind.  When  he  had  warned  his  mate,  he 
again  disappeared  in  the  cabin. 

Tonnes  gave  the  order  to  the  man  at  the 
helm,  and  hurried  to  help  at  the  main-braces. 
The  double-reefed  main-top-sail  swung  about, 
the  '  Anna  Dorthea  '  caught  the  wind  some- 
what sluggishly,  and  not  without  getting  con- 
siderable water  over  her;  then  followed  the 
fore-top-sail,  the  reefed  fore-sail,  and  the  try- 
sail. When  the  tacking  was  finished,  and  the 
sails  had  again  caught  the  wind,  the  try-sail 
was  torn  from  the  bolt-ropes  with  a  loud  crack. 

The  captain's  head  appeared  again. 
11 


1 66  NANNA 


*  We  must  close-reef! '  said  he. 

The  last  reef  was  taken  in  ;  the  storm  came 
down  and  lashed  the  sea ;  the  sky  grew  more 
and  more  threatening ;  the  waves  dashed  over 
the  deck  at  each  plunge  of  the  old  bark  in  the 
sea.  The  old  vessel,  which  had  carried  her 
captain  for  a  generation,  lay  heavily  on  the 
water  —  Tonnes  thought  too  heavily. 

The  second  mate  —  the  same  who  had 
played  the  accordeon  at  the  inn  —  came  over 
to  Tonnes. 

'  It  was  wrong  to  stow  the  china-clay  at  the 
bottom  and  the  casks  on  top  ;  she  lies  horribly 
dead,  and  I  'm  afraid  we  shall  have  to  use  the 
pumps.' 

'  Yes,  I  said  so  to  the  old  man,  but  he  would 
have  it  that  way,'  answered  Tonnes.  '  We 
shall  have  a  wet  night.' 

'  We  shall,  surely,'  said  the  second  mate. 

Tonnes  crawled  up  to  the  helm,  and  looked 
at  the  compass.  Two  men  were  at  the  helm 
—  lashed  fast.     Tonnes  looked  up  into  the 


A  STORT  OF  DANISH  LOVE  1 67 

rigging  and  out  to  windward  ;  then  suddenly 
he  cried,  with  the  full  force  of  his  lungs  : 

'  Look  out  for  breakers  ! ' 

Tonnes  himself  helped  at  the  wheel ;  but 
the  vessel  only  half  answered  the  helm.  The 
greater  portion  of  the  sea  struck  the  bow,  the 
quarter,  and  the  bulwarks  and  stanchions  amid- 
ship,  so  that  they  creaked  and  groaned.  One 
of  the  men  at  the  helm  had  grasped  Tonnes, 
who  would  otherwise  have  been  swept  into 
the  lee-scupper.  When  the  ship  had  righted 
from  the  terrible  blow,  the  captain  stood  on 
the  deck  in  his  oil-cloth  suit. 

'•  Are  any  men  missing  ? '  cried  he,  through 
the  howling  of  the  wind  and  the  roaring  of  the 
water  streaming  fore  and  aft,  unable  to  escape 
quickly  enough  through  the  scuppers. 

The  storm  raged  with  undiminished  fury. 
The  crew — and  amongst  them  Prussian,  who 
had  been  promoted  to  be  ship's-dog — by  and 
by  dived  forward  through  the  seething  salt- 
water and  the  fragments  of  wreck  that  covered 
the  deck. 


1 68  NANNA 


Now  it  was  noticed  that  the  second  mate 
was  missing. 

The  captain  looked  at  Tonnes,  and  then  out 
on  the  wild  sea.  He  scarcely  glanced  at  the 
crushed  long-boat ;  even  if  a  boat  could  have 
been  launched,  it  would  have  been  too  late. 
Tonnes  and  his  skipper  were  fearless  men, 
who  took  things  as  they  were.  If  any  help 
could  have  been  given,  they  would  have  given 
it.  But  their  eyes  sought  vainly  for  any  dark 
speck  amidst  the  foaming  waves  —  and  it  was 
necessary  to  care  for  themselves,  the  vessel,  and 
the  crew. 

'  God  save  his  soul  ! '  murmured  Captain 
Spang. 

Tonnes  passed  his  hand  across  his  brow,  and 
went  to  his  duty. 

Evening  set  in  -,  the  wind  increased  rather 
than  decreased. 

^  She  is  taking  in  water,'  said  the  captain, 
who  had  sounded  the  pumps. 

Tonnes  assented. 

'  We  must  change  her  course,'  said  the  cap- 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOVE  169 

tain.      'She  pitches  too  heavily  in  this  sea.' 

The  bark  was  held  up  to  the  wind  as  closely 
as  possible.  The  pumps  were  worked  steadily, 
but  often  got  out  of  order  on  account  of  the 
china-clay,  which  mixed  with  the  water  down 
in  the  hold. 

It  was  plain  that  the  vessel  grew  heavier  and 
heavier ;  her  movements  in  climbing  a  wave 
were  more  and  more  dead. 

During  the  night  a  cry  arose  :  again  one  of 
the  crew  was  washed  overboard. 

It  was  a  long  night,  and  a  wet  one,  as 
Tonnes  had  predicted.  Several  times  the  skip- 
per dived  down  into  his  cabin — Tonnes  knew 
perfectly  well  what  for,  but  he  said  nothing. 
Few  words  were  spoken  on  board  the  '  Anna 
Dorthea '  that  night. 

In  the  morning,  the  captain,  returning  from 
one  of  his  excursions  down  below,  declared  that 
the  cabin  was  half  full  of  water. 

'  We  must  watch  for  a  sail,'  he  said,  ab- 
ruptly, and  somewhat  huskily. 

Tonnes  passed  the  word  round  amongst  the 


170  NANNA 


crew.  One  might  read  on  their  faces  that  they 
were  prepared  for  this,  and  that  they  had  ceased 
to  hope,  although  they  had  not  stopped  work 
at  the  pumps. 

The  whole  of  the  weather  bulwark,  the 
cook's  cabin,  and  the  long-boat,  were  crushed 
or  washed  away  ;  the  water  could  be  heard  be- 
low the  hatches.  While  keeping  a  sharp  look- 
out for  sails,  many  an  eye  glanced  at  the  yawl 
as  the  last  resort.  But  on  board  Captain 
Spang's  vessel  the  words  were  not  yet  spoken 
which  carried  with  them  the  doom  of  the  ship  : 
'  We  are  sinking  !  ' 

In  the  grav-white  of  the  dawn  a  signal  was 
to  be  hoisted  ;  the  bunting  was  tied  together  at 
the  middle  and  raised  half-mast  high. 

Both  the  captain  and  Tonnes  had  lashed 
themselves  aft ;  for  now  the  bark  was  but  little 
better  than  a  wreck,  over  which  the  billows 
broke  incessantly,  as  the  vessel,  reeling  like  a 
drunken  man,  exposed  herself  to  the  violent 
attacks  of  the  sea  instead  of  parrying  them. 

'  A  sail  to  windward,  captain  I '  cried  Tonnes. 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOVE  I  71 


Captain  Spang  only  nodded. 

*  She  holds  her  course  ! '  cried  one  of  the 
crew,  excitedly. 

'  No,'  said  Tonnes,  quietly.    '  She  has  seen 
us,  and  is  bearing  down  upon  us  !  ' 
The  captain  again  nodded. 
'  'T  is  a  brig  ! '  cried  one  of  the  crew. 

*  A  schooner-brig  ! '  Tonnes  corrected.  '  She 
carries  her  sails  finely.  I  am  sure  she  is  a 
fruit-trader.' 

At  last  the  strange  vessel  was  so  near  that 

they  could  see   her  deck  each  time  she  was 

thrown  upon   her  side  in  the  violent   seething 

sea. 

'■  Yes,  't  is  the   schooner-brig  ! '   exclaimed 

Tonnes.      '  Do   you   remember,   captain,  the 

time  when   .   .   .' 

Again  Captain  Spang  nodded.      He  acted 

strangely.    Tonnes  looked  sharply  at  him,  and 

shook  his  head. 

Now  Tonnes  hailed  the  vessel : 
'  Help  us  !  —  We  are  sinking  ! ' 
At  this  moment,  two  or  three  of  the  bark's 


I  7  2  NANNA 


crew  rushed  toward  the  yawl,  although  Tonnes 
warned  them  back. 

Captain  Spang  seemed  changed.  Evidently 
some  opposing  feelings  contended  within  him. 
Seeing  the  insubordination  of  the  men,  he  only 
shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  let  Tonnes  take 
full  charge. 

The  men  were  in  the  yawl,  still  hanging 
under  the  iron  davits.  Now  they  cut  the 
ropes  i  the  yawl  touched  the  water.  The  crew 
cf  the  other  vessel  gestured  warningh  -,  but  it 
was  too  late.  A  sea  seized  the  yawl  with  its 
small  crew,  and  the  next  moment  crushed  it 
against  the  main  chains  of  the  bark.  Their 
shipmates  raised  a  cry,  and  rushed  to  help 
them  •,  but  help  was  impossible,  i^oat  and  crew 
had  disappeared. 

'  Did  n't  I  sav  so  .'' '  cried  Tonnes,  with  flam- 
ing eves. 

Over  there  in  the  schooner-brig  all  was  ac- 
tivity. From  the  '  Anna  Dorthea  '  thev  could 
plainly  see  how  the  captain  gave  his  orders. 
He  manoeuvred  his  vessel   like  a  true  sailor. 


A  STORT  OF  DANISH  LOVE  173 


To  board  the  wreck  in  such  a  sea  v/ould  be 
madness.  Therefore  they  unreeved  two  long 
lines  and  attached  them  to  the  long-boat,  one 
on  each  side.  Then  they  laid  breeching  un- 
der the  boat,  and  hauled  it  up  amidships  by 
means  of  tackle.  Taking  advantage  of  a  mo- 
ment when  their  vessel  was  athwart  the  seas, 
they  unloosed  the  tackle,  and  the  boat  sv/ung 
out  over  the  side  ;  then  they  cut  the  breech- 
ino-,  the  boat  fell  on  the  water  aft,  and  now 
both  lines  were  eased  off  quickly ;  while  the 
brig  caught  the  wind,  the  boat  drifted  towards 
the  stern-sheets  of  the  bark. 

Tonnes  was  ready  with  a  boat-hook,  and 
connections  were  quickly  made  between  the 
boat  and  the  wreck. 

'  Quick  now  !  '  cried  Tonnes.    '  Every  man 

in  the  boat !  No  one  takes  his  clothes  with  him  ! 

We  may  be  thankful  if  we  save  our  lives.' 
The  men  were  quickly  over  the  stern-sheets 

and  down  in  the  boat.     Prussian  whined,  and 

kept  close  to  Captain  Spang,  who   had   not 

moved  one  step  on  the  deck. 


174  NANNA 


'  Come,  captain  ! '  cried  Tonnes,  taking  the 
skipper  by  the  arm. 

'  What 's  the  matter  ! '  asked  the  old  man, 
angrily. 

Tonnes  looked  at  him.     Prussian  barked. 

*  We  must  get  into  the  boat,  captain.  The 
vessel  may  sink  at  any  moment.     Come  ! ' 

The  captain  pressed  his  sou'-wester  down 
over  his  forehead,  and  glanced  around  his  deck. 

The  men  in  the  boat  cried  out  to  them  to 
come. 

'  Well  ! '  said  Captain  Spang,  but  with  an 
air  so  absent-minded  and  a  bearing  so  irreso- 
lute that  Tonnes  at  last  took  a  firm  hold  on 
him. 

Prussian  showed  his  teeth  at  his  former 
master. 

*-  You  go  first ! '  exclaimed  Tonnes,  snatch- 
ing the  dog  and  throwing  him  down  to  the 
men,  who  were  having  hard  work  to  keep  the 
boat  from  wrecking. 

When  the  dog  was  no  longer  on  the  deck, 
it  seemed  as  if  Captain  Spang's  resistance  was 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOVE  175 

broken.  Tonnes  did  not  let  go  his  hold  on 
him  ;  but  the  young  mate  had  to  use  almost 
superhuman  strength  to  get  the  heavy  old  man 
down  over  the  vessel's  side,  and  placed  on  a 
seat  in  the  boat. 

As  soon  as  they  had  observed,  from  the 
brig,  that  this  had  been  done,  they  hauled  in 
both  lines.  The  boat  moved  back  again ;  but 
it  was  a  dangerous  voyage,  and  all  were  obliged 
to  lash  themselves  fast  to  the  thwarts  with 
ropes  placed  there  for  that  purpose. 

Captain  Spang  was  like  a  child.  Tonnes 
had  to  lash  him  to  the  seat.  The  old  man  sat 
with  his  face  hidden  in  his  hands,  his  back 
turned  toward  his  ship,  inactive,  and  seemingly 
unconscious  of  what  took  place  around  him. 

At  last,  when,  after  a  hard  struggle,  all  were 
on  the  deck  of  the  schooner-brig,  her  captain 
came  forward,  placed  his  hand  on  his  old 
friend's  shoulder,  and  said  : 

'•  It  is  the  second  time,  you  see  !  Well,  we 
all  cling  to  life,  and  the  vessel  over  there  is 
pretty  old.' 


176  NANNA 


Captain  Spang  started.  He  scarcely  returned 
his  friend's  hand-shaking. 

'  My  vessel,  I  say  !  My  papers  !  All  that 
I  have  is  in  the  vessel.  I  must  go  aboard,  do 
you  hear  ?  I  must  go  aboard.  How  could  I 
forget  ? ' 

The  other  skipper  and  Tonnes  looked  at 
each  other. 

Captain  Spang  wrung  his  hands,  and  stamped 
on  the  deck,  his  eyes  fixed  on  his  sinking  ves- 
sel. She  was  still  afloat ;  what  did  he  care  for 
the  gale  and  the  heavy  sea  ?  He  belonged  to 
the  old  school  of  skippers ;  he  was  bound  to 
his  vessel  by  ties  longer- than  any  life-line, 
heavier  than  any  hawser ;  he  had  left  his  ship 
in  a  bewildered  state,  and  had  taken  nothing 
with  him  that  might  serve  to  prove  what  he 
possessed  and  how  long  he  had  possessed  it. 
His  good  old  vessel  was  still  floating  on  the 
water.  He  must,  he  would  go  there ;  if  no- 
body would  go  with  him,  he  would  go  alone. 

All  remonstrances  were  in  vain. 


A  STORT  OF  DANISH  LOVE  I  77 


Tonnes  pressed  the  other  skipper's  hand. 

'  There  is  nothing  else  to  be  done.  I  know 
him,'  said  he. 

'  So  do  I,'  was  the  answer. 

Captain  Spang  and  his  mate  were  again  in 
the  boat.  As  they  were  on  the  point  of  start- 
ing, a  loud  whine  and  violent  barking  sounded 
from  the  deck,  and  Prussian  showed  his  one 
eye  over  the  railing. 

*•  Stay  where  you  are  ! '  cried  Tonnes.  '  We 
shall  be  back  soon.' 

But  the  dog  did  not  understand  him.  Per- 
haps he  had  his  doubts ;  no  one  can  say.  He 
sprang  overboard ;  Tonnes  seized  him  by  the 
ear,  and  hauled  him  into  the  boat. 

And  then  the  two  men  and  the  dog  ven- 
tured back  to  the  abandoned  vessel. 

This  time  the  old  man  climbed  on  board 
without  assistance. 

Prussian  whined  in  the  boat. 

'  Throw  that  dog  up  to  me  ! '  cried  the 
master. 


178  NANNA 


Tonnes  did  so. 

'  Shall  I  come  up  ar-d  help  you  ? '  he  called 
out. 

'  No,  I  can  find  my  own  way.' 

'  But  hurry,  captain  !  do  you  understand  ? ' 
said  Tonnes,  who  anxiously  noticed  that  the 
motions  of  the  vessel  were  becoming  more  and 
more  dangerous,  while  he  needed  all  his 
strength  to  keep  the  boat  clear  of  the  wreck. 

An  answer  came  from  the  bark,  but  he  could 
not  catch  it.  In  this  moment  Tonnes  recalled 
the  day  when  he  rowed  the  captain  out  on  the 
bay  to  the  brig.  His  next  thought  was  of 
Nanna.     Oh,  if  she  knew  where  they  were  ! 

And  at  this  thought  the  mate's  breast  was 
filled  with  conflicting  emotions.  The  dear 
blessed  girl!  .  .  .  Oh,  if  her  father  would  only 
come  ! 

*•  Captain  ! '  cried  Tonnes  -,  '•  Captain  Spang ! 
for  God's  sake,  come  !  Leave  those  papers 
alone.  The  vessel  is  sinking.  We  may  at 
any  moment   .   .     ' 

He  paused. 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOVE  I  79 

The  captain  stood  at  the  stern-sheets.  At 
his  side  was  Prussian,  squinting  down  into  the 
boat.  There  was  an  entirely  strange  expres- 
sion in  Andreas  Spang's  face ;  a  double  ex- 
pression—  one  moment  hard  and  defiant,  the 
next  almost  solemn. 

The  sou'-wester  had  fallen  from  his  old 
head.  His  scanty  hairs  fluttered  in  the  wind. 
He  held  in  his  hand  a  parcel  of  papers  and  a 
coil  of  rope.     He  pointed  toward  the  brig. 

'  There,'  he  cried,  throwing  the  package  and 
the  rope  down  to  Tonnes.  '  Give  the  skipper 
this  new  line  for  his  trouble.  He  has  used 
plenty  of  rope  for  us.  You  go  back.  I  stay 
here.  Give  .  .  .  my  .  .  .  love  ...  to  the 
girl  at  home.  .  .  .  You  and  she.  .  .  .  You 
two.   .   .  .  God  bless  you  ! ' 

'  Captain  ! '  cried  Tonnes  in  affright.  '  You 
are  sick ;   come,  let  me   .   .   .' 

He  prepared  to  climb  on  board. 

Captain  Spang  lifted  his  hand  threateningly, 
and  Prussian  barked  furiously. 

'  Stay  down  there,  boy,  I  say  !    The  vessel 


1  So  NANNA 


and  I,  we  belong  together.      You   shall  take 
care  of  the  girl.     Good-bye  ! ' 

The  'Anna  Dorthea  '  rolled  heavily  over  on 
one  side,  righted  again,  and  then  began  to 
plunge  her  head  downwards,  like  a  whale  that, 
tired  of  the  surface,  seeks  rest  at  the  bottom. 
The  crew  of  the  brig  hauled  in  the  lines  of  the 
boat.  Tossed  on  the  turbid  sea.  Tonnes  saw 
his  old  skipper  leaning  against  the  helm,  the 
dog  at  his  side.  His  gray  hairs  fluttered  in  the 
wind,  as  if  they  wafted  a  last  farewell ;  and 
down  with  vessel  and  dog  went  the  old  skipper 
—  down  into  the  wild  sea  that  so  long  had 
borne  him  on  its  waves. 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOFE  l8l 


VII. 

A  DOOR  was  hastily  opened  into  the  outer  dark- 
ness. A  gleam  of  light  appeared,  and  then  dis- 
appeared ;  the  door  closed  behind  a  figure  that 
moved  out  from  the  house,  through  the  open 
gate,  and  farther  on,  with  irresolute  steps,  along 
the  soft  sandy  way  between  the  houses  and 
the  huts  of  the  small  fishing  town. 

The  person  paused,  tore  off  his  hat,  and  let 
the  fine  dust-like  rain  of  the  November  even- 
ing sprinkle  his  face.  Then  he  continued  his 
walk,  with  irregular  motions,  sometimes  has- 
tening feverishly  forward,  sometimes  stopping 
abruptly ;  and  so  passed  up  through  the  town 
toward  the  smithy. 

On  the  steps  outside  of  the  smith's  dwell- 
ing he  stood  still  and  seemed  to  hesitate.  The 
small  yard  was  dead  and  silent ;  the  wind,  scat- 
tering the  rain,  sighed  in  the  leafless  willows ; 

12 


1 82  NANNA 


far  beyond  sounded  the  melancholy  waves 
breaking  against  the  shore. 

The  curtains  were  never  drawn  before  the 
smith's  windows.  He  did  not  care  for  that. 
Everybody  might  see  him.  To-night  he  was 
sitting  at  his  table,  with  a  small  candle  before 
him,  listening  to  hear  if  anybody  crossed  the 
stone  pavement  of  the  yard. 

Old  Jacob,  too,  was  sitting  in  his  accustomed 
place.  His  pipe  had  gone  out ;  so  had  the 
smith's.  Both  of  the  men  pursued  their  own 
thoughts ;  but  these  were  not  pleasant. 

The  smith  arose,  snatched  the  candle,  and 
went  to  the  door.  He  threw  it  open  ;  the  light 
fell  on  the  figure  standing  outside.  It  was  his 
son. 

The  smith  let  him  in,  but  said  nothing. 
Tonnes  crossed  the  floor,  dropped  down  on 
one  of  the  rude  wooden  chairs,  and  sat  there 
—  his  head  sunk  upon  his  breast,  his  hat  on, 
his  legs  stretched  forward  —  without  noticing 
the  two  old  men. 

Then  the  smith  asked  slowly  : 


A  STORT  OF  DANISH  LOFE  1 8 


J 


'  Did  you  see  her  ? ' 

Tonnes  looked  up,  and  nodded. 

The  smith  stood  for  a  moment  watching 
him.  Then  he  placed  the  candle  on  the  table, 
took  a  seat,  and  waited. 

Not  the  slightest  attempt  at  an  explanation 
came  from  the  son. 

The  smith  moved  his  chair  a  little,  coughed, 
and  b^gan  again  : 

'  Would  she  not  listen  at  all.  Tonnes  ? ' 

The  son  shook  his  head,  and  nodded  again. 

'  Did  she  say  nothing  ? '  asked  the  smith. 

'  No.  She  listened  to  my  explanation,  as 
she  did  the  other  day,  when  I  came  home.  I 
told  her  the  whole  story  over  again,  and  asked 
her  only  to  give  me  her  hand.  She  only  looked 
at  me — thus  ;  then  I  arose,  and  she  arose  also; 
then  I  again  reached  my  hand  ;  she  only  folded 
her  arms,  and  said  :   "  Good-bye."  ' 

Tonnes  poured  out  the  words  as  if  they  had 
been  committed  to  memory.  He  uttered  them 
monotonously,  and,  as  he  ended,  his  chin  again 
sank  down  upon  his  breast. 


1 84  NANNA 


The  smith  observed  him  sharply,  and  moved 
nearer. 

'  Did  she  say  nothing  else  ? ' 

Tonnes  opened   his  m.outh,  and  closed  it 
again  ;  there  came  no  sound.     He  took  off  his 
hat  and  looked  at  it  as  if  it  were  a  very  mys- 
terious object. 
.  *  Tonnes  ! '  said  his  father,  a  little  sternly. 

The  young  man  started.  He  rose  from  his 
seat  and  whispered,  as  though  to  the  room  : 

'  She  said  :  "  It  is  all  over  between  us  !  "  ' 

The  smith  and  old  Jacob  sprang  up  and 
hurried  to  Tonnes. 

They  caught  him  in  their  arms  just  as  he 
was  on  the  point  of  fainting  and  falling  forward 
on  the  floor. 

'  Tonnes  !  Tonnes,  my  boy  ! '  cried  the 
smith,  supporting  the  strong  body,  which  trem- 
bled under  the  violent  effort  to  keep  back  the 
tears. 

'  I  am  sick,'  murmured  Tonnes.  '  Let  me 
—  let  me  go  in  and  lie  down   .    .   .' 

The  smith's  eyes  had  a  wild  expression. 


A  SrORT  OF  DANISH  LOVE  185 

One  arm  supported  his  son ;  with  his 
clenched  right  hand  he  knocked  on  the  table, 
so  that  the  light  jumped  up. 

'  She  shall  pay  for  this.     She  shall   .   .   .' 

Tonnes  seized  his  arm. 

'  Do  not  say  anything  against  her,  I  beg  you,' 
murmured  he.  '■  You  must  not !  Oh,  my 
God,  how  sick  I  am   .   .   .' 

'  No  wonder  ! '  whispereil  old  Jacob.  *■  No 
sleep,  no  food   .   .   .' 

The  two  old  men  led  him  into  the  small 
chamber,  undressed  him,  as  he  had  not  been 
since  his  return,  and  at  last  got  him  to  bed. 

Tonnes  lay  with  eyes  closed. 

'  He  has  fever,  I  think,'  whispered  Jacob. 

'  Yes,'  said  the  smith,  who  had  taken  his 
son's  hand. 

'  What  shall  we  do  ? '  asked  Jacob. 

'  We  will  sit  here  till  he  feels  better.  You 
make  him  a  cup  of  strong  coftee,  as  strong  as 
you  can.  Evil  things  are  driven  away  with 
evil  things.  To-morrow  I  will  go  and  see 
her.' 


1 86  NANNA 


Tonnes  opened  his  eyes  and  stared  at  his 
father.  He  looked  as  if  he  wished  to  speak. 
But  the  eyes  closed  again.  After  a  while  he 
began  to  mutter,  and  then  to  talk  wildly. 

'  It  is  exactly  like  .   .   .'  began  Jacob. 

'  Be  quiet ! '  whispered  the  smith. 

After  a  while  Jacob  said  : 

*  I  do  n't  think  the  coffee  will  help.' 

'  No  ! '  answered  the  smith. 

The  two  old  friends  remained  throughout 
the  night  in  the  small  chamber. 

The  next  day,  at  about  noon,  the  smith 
passed  through  the  gate  of  the  green-painted 
fence,  and  knocked  at  the  door  of  Captain 
Spang's  house. 

The  aunt,  dressed  in  black,  opened  the  door. 

Was  Nanna  in  ? 

She  was. 

Could  he  see  her  ? 

'  Yes  ...   I  will  see  .   .  .' 

And  the  aunt  retired,  while  the  smith  stood 
waiting  in  the  entry. 

He  had  not  long  to  wait.      He  heard  the 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOVE  1 87 

aunt  making  some  objections ;  but  she  was 
shortly  interrupted  by  Nanna  :  '  Let  him  come 
in!' 

The  smith  entered.  Nanna,  dressed  in 
black,  was  sitting  with  some  needlework  near 
the  window.  Though  it  could  not  be  said  that 
her  beauty  had  suffered,  yet  her  feafures  bore 
traces  of  the  great  sorrow  that  had  come  upon 
the  house.  Besides,  during  the  last  year  her 
hair  had  grown  a  little  darker,  and  the  expres- 
sion of  her  face  more  serious. 

When  the  smith  had  made  his  short  salu- 
tation, she  flushed  slightly,  but  quickly  recov- 
ered her  composure.  In  her  old  manner,  she 
bit  her  lip  with  her  white  teeth,  and  bent  her 
head. 

He  might  begin. 

The  smith  looked  at  her.  He  observed  that 
she  still  wore  the  chain  around  her  neck ;  but 
she  did  not  notice  the  glance  which  followed 
this  observation. 

He  spoke  standing.  She  had  not  asked  him 
to  sit  down.     He  spoke  at  first  rather  thickly, 


1 88  NANNA 


but  by  and  by  more  fluently,  like  a  man  who 
has  considered  beforehand  what  to  say.  He 
spoke  Hke  one  fighting  in  a  difficult  cause,  but 
a  cause  dear  to  him,  and  weighing  on  his  heart. 
Only  once  did  he  mention  his  son's  name. 
When  he  saw  that  it  did  not  produce  the  effect 
he  had  expected,  his  face  clouded ;  his  hand 
clutched  the  brim  of  his  hat,  and  he  ended  by 
making  the  girl  responsible  for  whatever  mi^ht 
happen  to  his  son. 

There  was  a  pause. 

She  sat  waiting ;  she  wished  to  know  if  there 
was  anything  further.  The  smith's  last  words 
had  made  her  cold.  He  remained  silent.  Then 
she  raised  her  head  and  looked  at  her  lover's 
father. 

'  Did  Tonnes  ask  you  to  come  here  and  say 
this  to  me  ? ' 

The  smith  answered,  '  No.' 

'  He  did  not .?  Then  I  have  only  to  deal 
with  you  ? ' 

'  Tonnes  is  sick,'  answered  the  smith,  whose 
mein  grew  darker  and  darker. 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOVE  1 89 


'  Is  he  ?      Oh,  he  will  get  well  again.' 

The  smith  muttered  something  between  his 
teeth. 

'  Have  you  no  pity  at  all  ? '  he  at  last  burst 
out. 

She  arose  and  looked  toward  the  door  which 
the  aunt  had  left  ajar.  She  raged  inwardly, 
but  controlled  her  voice  and  her  bursting  tears. 

'  Did  he  show  any  pity  ?  How  could  he 
leave  my  father,  an  old  man,  to  whom  he  owed 
everything? — yes,  everything!  .  .  .  But  it  is 
useless  to  speak  more  about  it.  I  have  told 
him  what  I  need  not  repeat  to  you.  I  could 
have  borne  that  both  had  gone  down  —  such 
is  the  fate  of  sailors ;  but  I  can  never  forgive 
a  man  who,  m  the  hour  of  danger,  forsakes 
.  ,  .  No,  no  !  .  .  .  Go,  I  tell  you  !  ...  It 
is  in  the  hour  of  danger  that  we  show  what 
we  are.  Tonnes  has  shown  ;  and  therefore  I 
say  to  you,  as  I  said  to  him  :  Go  ;  it  cannot 
be  otherwise  ! ' 

She  had  spoken  with  increasing  energy  ;  but 
the  last  words  were  calm  —  perfectly  calm  and 


19°  NANNA 


distinct ;   there  was  no  possibility  of  mistaking 
them. 

The  smith  placed  his  hand  on  the  latch 
behind  him.  Then  he  snatched  it  away,  and 
extended  it  threateningly  toward  the  young  girl. 

'  hndijou — to  you  I  say  that  you  have  never 
deserved  a  husband  like  my  boy.  Never;  how- 
ever proud  you  may  be.  I  have  spoken  with 
all  the  old  skippers  of  this  town,  and  they  say 
my  boy  could  have  acted  in  no  other  way, 
and  that  it  would  have  been  madness  for  him 
to  go  aboard.  And  now  I  trust  in  Him  above, 
who  is  greater  than  the  greatest  captains,  that 
my  son  shall  become  a  man  again  after  this 
voyage.  If  he  recovers,  it  will  be  no  thanks 
to  you ;  and  if  he  does  not,  then  .  .  . 
then  .  .   .' 

Here  the  smith  gasped  for  words.  Open- 
ing the  door,  he  added  : 

*  It  will  be  your  turn  next.  Miss  Spang  ;  do 
you  understand  ?  It  will  be  your  turn.  Good- 
bye ! ' 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOVE  191 

Again  he  opened  the  door,  only  showing  his 
head,  with  eyes  flashing  angrily. 

'  But  it  will  be  no  fault  of  mine,  Miss,  if  you 
are  not  then  turned  away  ! ' 

Nanna  had  dropped  her  eyes.  But  at  the 
smith's  last  words  her  head  was  again  lifted 
and  her  eyes  shot  lightnings. 

When  the  frightened  aunt  entered,  the  young 
girl  threw  herself  upon  her  neck  and  pressed 
her  close,  weeping  violently  and  uttering  in- 
audible words.  Nanna  would  have  torn  the 
chain  from  her  neck,  but  the  aunt  hushed  her, 
and  softly  took  her  hand  away.  And  the  chain 
was  left  in  its  place. 

Just  a  year  had  passed  since  those  Novem- 
ber days.  It  was  evening  —  a  rainy,  foggy 
evening ;  but  the  wind  was  stronger  and 
sounded  more  dismal  than  last  year.  The  can- 
dle, standing  on  the  table  before  Nanna,  flick- 
ered in  the  draft  that  forced  its  way  through 
the  windows.     The  wind  howled  around  the 


192  NANNA 


house,  and  doors  and  weather-vanes  flapped 
and  shrieked  throughout  the  neighborhood. 
Nanna  was  so  occupied  with  her  work  that 
she  gave  Httle  heed  to  these  sounds,  which 
were  not  at  all  unusual  on  this  coast  and  at 
this  time  of  the  year.  She  tried,  not  without 
difficulty,  to  copy  some  verses  from  a  printed 
book  which  lay  open  before  her,  on  a  sheet  of 
white  paper,  where  there  were  already  some 
blots  and  erasures.  The  book  she  had  bor- 
rowed from  the  schoolmaster  ;  paper,  pen,  and 
ink  were  her  own,  but  she  seldom  used  them, 
hence  her  slow  progress,  and  the  ink  upon  her 
fingers. 

The  following  stanzas  appeared  upon  the 
paper : 

•  Who  is  my  foe  ?      The  one  I  would  slay  ? 
But  where,  then,  is  my  friend  ? 
Out  through  the  world  he  searched  his  way  ; 
The  sea  did  bear  him  ;  the  sea  did  betray, — 

False  as  she  ever  will  be. 
In  my  dreams  sweet  visions  of  him  would  blend  ; 
He  was  faithful  and  good,  was  my  dearest  friend,^ 
I  waken  ;  oh,  come  back  to  me! 


A  STORT  OF  DANISH  LOVE  193 

'  The  wind  shifts  like  the  human  mind  j 
The  strand  remaineth  fast. 
Though  beaten  by  billows  wild  and  blind, 
The  vessel  drifts  before  wave  and  wind. 

Yet  my  sailor  is  known  to  me. 
Thou  sailor  afloat  on  the  ocean  vast. 
Oh,  wert  thou  adrift  on  a  broken  mast, 

I  would  save  thee  from  out  the  sea.' 

The  aunt's  head  appeared  in  the  half-open 
door. 

'  What  !      Are  you  sitting  there,  writing  ^.  ' 

Nanna  quickly  put  away  her  paper. 

The  aunt  came  into  the  room,  and  ap- 
proached the  table. 

'  Do  you  know  that  ...  I  heard  lately 
from  a  neighbor,  who  now  and  then  sees  the 
smith,  that  .  .  .  that  Tonnes  is  coming 
home  ? ' 

Nanna  bent  her  head. 

'  It  is  quite  true.  He  is  on  his  way.  The 
owners  of  the  ship  have  got  a  letter  from  that 
English  port — well,  I  have  forgotten  the  name ; 
but  it  is  quite  true.    The  vessel  will  be  sighted 

.   .   Gracious  !   what  weather  ! ' 


1 94  NANNA 


And  the  old  woman  clasped  her  hands,  and 
kept  them  folded,  while  she  listened  to  the 
wind  outside. 

It  whistled  and  howled,  barking  around  the 
house.  Doors  flapped,  vanes  creaked,  and 
some  dogs  tried  to  outdo  the  wind  by  howl- 
ing. 

Nanna  did  not  answer.  Then  her  aunt 
nodded  a  good-night.  In  leaving  the  room, 
the  candle  she  held  in  her  hand  was  blown  out 
by  the  draft.  She  returned  and  relighted  it. 
As  she  stood  near  Nanna,  the  old  woman  bent 
down  and  kissed  the  young  girl. 

Nanna  returned  the  kiss,  a  little  impatiently. 
When  her  aunt  had  left  her,  she  sat  still  awhile, 
her  hands  folded  upon  her  knees.  Then  she 
undressed  slowlv,  blew  out  the  light,  and  lay 
down  in  her  short  snow-white  bed. 

She  awoke  several  times.  The  wind  in- 
creased ;  but  at  last  she  fell  into  a  sound  and 
dreamless  sleep. 

She  was  awakened  by  a  strange  mingling  of 
sounds.    She  sat  up,  still  half  asleep,  and  tried 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOVE  1 95 

to  realize  where  and  who  she  was.  It  appeared 
to  her,  in  the  darkness  and  the  terrible  roar 
outside,  unaccountable  that  she  had  slept  so 
soundly.  She  was  accustomed  to  hear  the 
wind  in  all  its  stages.  But  to-night  it  was 
really  roaring.  And  then  this  other  strange 
sound,  and  the  current  of  cold  air  blowing  into 
the  chamber  ! 

She  felt  a  little  uneasy.  She  put  one  foot 
out  of  the  warm  bed.  The  foot  grew  icy  cold 
and  wet.  She  jumped  out  on  the  floor.  She 
could  not  find  the  matches,  but  she  got  hold 
of  a  skirt  which  lay  on  a  chair,  and  while  she 
put  that  over  her  head  and  fastened  it  about  her 
waist,  she  called  out  loudly  for  her  aunt. 

No  one  answered. 

The  girl  waded  through  the  water,  which 
covered  the  chamber  floor.  She  got  the  door 
open,  went  into  the  entry,  called  again  for  her 
aunt,  heard  something  that  sounded  like  an 
answer,  and  at  last  groped  her  way  to  the  old 
woman,  whom  she  found  half-dead  from  fear, 
and  wide  awake. 


1 96  NANNA 


'  But  why  did  you  not  call  me  before  ? '  cried 
Nanna. 

'  Oh,  my  God  !  my  God  ! '  was  all  the  re- 
sponse she  could  gain. 

The  two  women  made  their  way  out  of  the 
house.  Something  extraordinary  must  have 
happened.  Outside,  they  found  an  explana- 
tion. The  salt-water  dashed  around  the  house, 
covering  the  garden,  surging  and  receding  as 
if  upon  the  very  beach. 

It  was  impossible  to  hear  each  other  speak. 
They  grasped  each  other's  skirts,  and  forced 
their  way  against  the  furious  wind,  through  the 
water,  out  to  the  road  running  past  the  houses. 
The  road  was  a  wild  stream. 

Some  one  passed  them.  They  cried  out, 
but  only  got  the  answer  : 

'  The  sea  is  coming  ! ' 

They  pressed  on  along  the  road.  The  whole 
town  seemed  to  be  under  water.  More  people 
came  through  the  darkness  ;  they  were  the 
women  from  different  parts  of  the  place.  They 
wailed  and  cried  aloud  ;  and  our  two  women 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOVE  197 

followed  the  common  course  through  the 
town,  across  the  sand-dunes,  and  up  toward 
the  forest. 

'  Lord  deliver  us  !  the  world  is  sinking  ! ' 
exclaimed  the  aunt, 

'-  It  is  the  sea,'  answered  Nanna,  who  had 
recovered  her  senses ;  '  the  sea,  which,  driven 
by  the  wind,  has  flooded  the  beach.  Let  us 
try  to  reach  old  Jacob's  place  ! ' 

'-  What  will  become  of  the  house  ? '  asked 
the  aunt,  weeping. 

'  The  house  will  stand,  I  hope  ;  if  not  it  will 
go  down.  We  can  do  nothing  ! '  answered  the 
young  girl  quietly,  dragging  the  old  woman 
along  with  her. 

They  heeded  not  the  voices  and  cries  around 
them.  They  were  driven  forward  by  the  wind, 
which  had  free  sweep  over  the  open  space,  on 
through  the  darkness,  up  toward  the  blufl', 
which  they  were  barely  able  to  distinguish. 
They  reached  it,  climbed  up,  slipped,  fell,  and 
climbed  again. 

'  I  can  do  no  more  !  '  groaned  the  aunt. 

13 


1 98  NANNA 


Nanna  had  recalled  all  her  strength,  all  her 
courage  and  presence  of  mind,  all  her  experi- 
ence with  the  combined  elements  of  situations, 
if  not  so  desperate,  yet  difficult.  But  this  was 
almost  too  much  for  the  young  girl. 

There  was  but  little  shelter  here  in  the  edge 
of  the  forest.  The  trees  crashed  against  each 
other  with  foreboding  sounds.  In  the  dark- 
ness the  two  women  stumbled  over  the  tree- 
roots  ;  and  when  they  would  speak  to  each 
other,  the  wind  howling  in  the  forest  and  the 
roaring  from  the  strand  drowned  all  human 
speech.  It  seemed  as  if  the  sea  were  steadily 
advancing  over  the  sandy  region,  and  that  the 
billows  would  soon  reach  the  forest. 

A  little  distance  farther  in  among  the  trees, 
the  two  women  threw  themselves  down.  They 
did  not  feel  —  at  least  Nanna  did  not  —  how 
the  wind  and  the  raw  cold  of  the  November 
night  chilled  them  in  their  thin  wet  dresses. 
Thev  only  felt  anxious  for  the  safety  of  the 
town,  and  fearful  of  the  storm  and  the  mys- 
terious danger. 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOVE  1 99 

At  this  moment  Nanna  thought  of  Tonnes. 

At  last  dawn  came.  They  went  on  through 
the  forest,  toward  the  signal  station.  They 
found  the  shanty  half  crushed  by  a  fallen  tree. 
The  m.ast,  with  the  balloon-baskets,  had  been 
blown  down.  From  the  station  the  strength 
of  the  wind  could  not  now  be  shown ;  but  it 
was  useless.    The  hurricane  told  its  own  story. 

Old  Jacob  stood  outside  the  cabin,  sur- 
rounded by  a  party  of  pale  and  weeping  women 
from  the  town.  He  tried  to  comfort  them  as 
best  he  could.  When  he  saw  Nanna  and  her 
aunt,  he  limped  to  them,  pressed  their  hands, 
and  pointed  toward  the  strand. 

And  this  is  what  they  saw  down  there  : 

One  great  mass  of  water  rolling  ceaselessly 
forward  and  back,  leaden  gray  and  dirty  yel- 
low in  the  light  of  dawn,  nearest  the  forest 
bluff  mixed  with  clay  and  fallen  tree  trunks, 
and  farther  out,  where  the  beach  used  to  be, 
trimmed  with  foaming  breakers,  whose  heavy 
masses  of  froth  and  sand  were  hurled  high  into 
the  air  and  sent  flying  toward  the  forest  in 


200  NANNA 


clouds  of  spray,  almost  blinding  the  anxious 
and  expectant  ones  who  stood  there. 

Beyond  those  breakers,  whose  double  or 
treble  rows  marked  the  place  where  usually 
the  inhabitants  of  the  coast  had  their  quiet 
walk  to  and  from  their  daily  tasks,  the  bay 
rolled  its  mighty  billows  toward  the  land,  the 
incoming  sea  steadily  adding  new  strength  to 
the  breakers  and  driving  them  into  a  rage  which 
threatened  to  swallow  all  before  them,  defying 
even  the  security  of  the  steep  forest  bluff. 

The  little  town  lay  like  an  island  in  the  sea, 
crossed  by  raging  channels  of  water.  The 
men  were  seen  engaged  in  a  desperate  strug- 
gle to  save  their  boats,  their  houses,  their  fur- 
niture. Some  of  the  boats  lay  crushed  under 
the  excavated  forest-bluff,  whose  black  or  red- 
dish tree-roots  looked  bare  and  ghastly,  like 
bundles  of  serpents,  stretching  out  from  the 
mire,  strewn  with  sea-weed  and  with  pieces  of 
wreck  and  clay.  Some  df  the  farthest  and 
poorest  of  the  huts  had  already  fallen,  and  the 
whole   roaring,  seething,  dashing   beach  was 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOVE  20I 


overstrewn  with  implements,  rafters,  boards, 
and  all  imaginable  things,  which  appeared  and 
disappeared,  emerged  and  were  overwhelmed 
again. 

And  over  all  the  scene  hung  the  heavy  sky, 
with  its  low-lying  clouds,  like  a  gigantic  sack, 
from  which  rain  and  salt  spray  and  great  gusts 
of  wind  were  shaken  down,  with  a  roaring  and 
howling  which  slackened  for  a  moment  only 
to  begin  again  wilder  and  more  inexorable. 

But  amidst  these  horrors  the  attention  of 
the  poor  people  who  were  silently  watching 
the  impending  ruin  was  attracted  to  another 
sight  which  from  remotest  times  on  this  coast 
had  been  certain  of  the  interest  of  the  inhab- 
itants, no  matter  in  what  circumstances  of  peril 
they  themselves  were  placed. 

Already  a  sharp  eye  had  noticed  a  vessel  out 
on  the  bay ;  a  vessel  in  this  hurricane  ! 

Some  fishermen,  who  had  rescued  their  own 
boats  in  safety,  and  whose  houses  were  less 
exposed,  came  to  ask  about  their  wives  and 
daughters  at  the  signal-station. 


20  2  NANNA 


They  exchanged  a  few  words  with  old 
Jacob ;  and  while,  a  little  gruffly  and  without 
any  long  explanations,  they  disposed  of  the 
many  anxious  inquiries  of  the  women,  there 
began  a  discussion  of  the  vessel's  situation  and 
her  chances  of  clearing  the  promontory. 

'  She  is  trying  hard  enough  ! '  said  one. 

'  It  will  never  do,  never  in  the  world  ! ' 
declared  old  Jacob,  who  had  seized  his  tele- 
scope. '  The  current  will  drive  her  aground. 
It  is  wonderful  that  she  can  still  carry  the  sails 
she  has.  .  .  .  There  goes  the  fore-rigging  !  I 
thought  so.' 

If  any  doubt  remained,  it  was  dispelled  by 
the  movement  of  the  vessel.  Her  course  was 
straight  toward  land. 

When  this  was  seen,  the  fishermen  began 
to  grow  animated.  And  the  women,  who 
knew  what  would  take  place,  forgot  their  own 
aftairs  for  a  moment.  Old  Jacob  limped  on 
ahead  ;  Nanna  followed  him,  with  some  of  the 
more  courageous  of  the  women  and  girls.  They 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOf^E  203 

went  along  the  edge  of  the  forest,  to  where 
the  road  led  down  to  the  smithy. 

'  The  smith  is  still  on  dry  land,'  some  one 
remarked. 

'  Certainly,'  answered  another.  '  He  him- 
self  is  out  rescuing  boats.  To-day  he  has  put 
out  his  fire  ! ' 

The  increasing  dawn  showed  that  the  action 
of  the  sea  had  thrown  up  a  barrier  of  sand  and 
wreckage.  With  some  difficulty,  they  got 
down  to  the  smithy  ;  but  no  further.  The 
brook  was  swollen,  and  mixed  its  current  with 
the  water  flowing  over  the  sandy  region  and 
between  the  houses  and  the  potato  gardens. 
Outside  of  the  smithy  stood  the  smith  himselfi 
with  some  townsmen.  They  had  rescued  some 
boats,  and  these  had  been  placed  in  the  yard 
and  along  the  fence,  as  if  waiting  to  be  repaired 
—  and  all  of  them  seemed  to  need  it. 

The  men  had  ceased  for  a  time  their  work 
of  rescue  in  and  around  the  flooded  town.  A 
more  serious  task  was  now  at  hand. 


2  04  NANNA 


All  eyes  were  turned  toward  the  sea.  The 
strange  ship,  pitching  and  foaming  through  the 
billows,  was  already,  on  an  even  keel,  as  far  in 
as  any  vessel  had  ever  been  before. 

'  They  must  know  this  coast,  as  they  have 
set  her  course  straight  for  that  point,'  some  one 
cried. 

'  Now  she  strikes  ! '  another  exclaimed. 

'-  No,  not  yet  !  ' 

'  Now,  now  ! '  exclaimed  the  smith,  raising 
his  arms  as  though  he  would  ward  off  the  shock. 

He  was  scarcely  recognizable.  In  high 
boots,  sou'-wester  drawn  down  to  the  neck, 
woollen  shirt  with  sleeves  turned  up,  he  stood 
with  coiled  line  in  hand,  seeming  to  command 
the  town. 

The  ship  had  struck — once,  twice.  There 
she  rolled,  where  the  fishermen  used  to  lay  up 
their  boats,  amidst  the  surf,  surrounded  by  froth 
and  foam,  defying  the  combination  of  sand, 
water,  land,  and  breakers,  in  the  spot  which 
she  had  selected  as  her  refuge. 

Then  she  heeled  over  on  cne  side.     The 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOFE  2 05 

breakers  thundered  against  her  weather  beam, 
sending  deluges  of  water  high  up  in  the  air  and 
down  over  the  deck.  Some  men  slipped  down 
to  leeward  ;  some  short  shrill  cries  were  heard  ; 
the  men  were  washed  overboard,  and  disap- 
peared. 

'  We  must  get  a  boat  out  ! '  cried  the  smith, 
through  the  wind.  '  Here,  all  of  you,  lend  a 
hand  ! ' 

They  quickly  did  their  best,  but  the  break- 
ing up  of  the  vessel  went  on  with  terrible  swift- 
ness. 

She  was  lying  with  her  masts  almost  flat 
upon  the  water  ;  some  shelter  was  thus  formed 
to  landward.  A  man  who  till  then  had  been 
lashed  to  the  rigging  aft  was  seen  to  loosen  him- 
self and  slide  down  on  the  lee  side  of  the  cabin. 
Others  followed  him.  One  of  the  boats  hung 
so  that  it  might  be  launched.  They  jumped 
into  it  ;  their  knives  could  be  seen  at  work 
cutting  the  ropes.  The  boat  with  its  crew 
was  floating  on  the  water. 

'  Hurrah  ! '   cried   the   men   on   the   beach, 


2o6  NANNA 


and  hurried  forward  through  water  and  mire. 
Nanna  followed  close  behind  the  smith.  She 
had  tucked  up  her  skirts  j  her  eyes,  wide  open, 
were  fixed  steadily  on  the  boat,  as  she  leaped 
forward  through  the  water — forward  to  rescue, 
in  line  with  the  hardy  men. 

The  boat  was  lifted  high  on  the  first  breaker. 

At  this  moment  all  could  distinguish  the 
man  in  the  stern,  steering  with  an  oar. 

'  Tonnes  ! '  shrieked  Nanna,  and  paused, 
pressing  her  hand  to  her  heart. 

The  smith  turned,  quick  as  lightning,  and 
looked  at  her. 

She  could  not  speak;  she  only  pointed  ahead, 
and  at  the  same  moment  the  boat  was  filled 
by  the  pursuing  water-mass. 

The  men  were  in  the  sea  ;  the  boat  drifted 
keel  upward. 

Nanna  was  close  to  the  smith,  who  was  the 
foremost  of  the  rescuers.  She  did  not  shriek, 
but  with  the  convulsive  grasp  of  despair  she 
wrested  the  line  from  the  strong  hand  which 
held  it. 


A  STORY  OF  DANISH  LOVE  207 

'  Give  it  to  me  —  it  is  my  turn  now  ! '  cried 
the  girl,  while  with  two  quick  half-hitches  she 
fastened  the  line  about  her  waist. 

Then  she  leaped  forward,  with  arms 
stretched  out — jumped  and  ran,  was  thrown 
down,  rose  again,  dived  through  the  breakers, 
and  still  pressed  on,  with  her  eyes  fixed  upon 
a  single  point,  always  the  same,  whether  above 
or  beneath  the  greedy  sea. 

The  line  of  rescuers  pressed  after  her,  hold- 
ing each  others'  hands.  Now  the  smith  hauled 
in  the  line  ;  he  hauled  steadily  and  swiftly  .  .  . 
the  other  hands  let  go,  and  the  men  threw 
themselves  down  upon  the  two  —  the  young 
man  and  the  young  girl^ — who  clung  to  each 
other  so  firmly  that  they  could  not  be  separated, 
and,  unconscious,  with  eyes  closed,  bruised  and 
wet,  were  hurriedly  borne  into  the  smith's 
house. 

There  they  were  laid  down.  She  had  thrown 
her  arms  around  him  ;  his  hand  was  clenched 
around  the  girl's  chain„      That  cable  held. 

'  We  must  get  them  apart,  in  order  to  roll 


2o8  NANNA 


them,  I  think,'  said  the  practical  old  Jacob. 

The  smith  nodded.  He  seemed  quiet.  He 
had  rescued  people  before.  He  had  seen  signs 
of  life.      He  had  also  seen  other  signs. 

When,  an  hour  later,  he  stepped  out  on  the 
stone  steps  of  his  dwelling,  Vv'here  some  men 
and  women  were  waiting,  he  said,  taking  off 
his  sou'-wester : 

'  Now  we  must  mind  our  other  work  ;  there 
is  plenty  to  be  done.' 

*  Yes  —  but  those  two  ? '  asked  a  neighbor 
woman. 

The  smith  smiled. 

'  They  are  asleep  in  their  chambers.  But 
they  will  meet  again  ! ' 

THE    END. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  AT  LOS  ANGELES 

THE  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 


This  book  is  DUE  on  tlie  last  date  stamped  below 


^^2  9  ia4;j 


OV21  1952 


V" 


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^  APRIS'S 


T     rt     1  c„,    o   10  J 


8126  Drachmann  - 
D7P8S  Nanna. 


3  1158  01117  4e 

SOUTHtRfJ  KS  !J!j'jAi  lIHRARV  FAf'lL 


AA    000  616157    4 


